


Love My Way

by LemNDawn



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Complete, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Alternating, Smut, verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 422,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23536477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemNDawn/pseuds/LemNDawn
Summary: The cigarette between Billy's lips was a constant, one of the small handful that he had. The way his lungs burned when he inhaled was another, and unfortunately so was the cold of Hawkins in fucking February. If it was California the sun might just now be going down for good and he wouldn’t need to wear basically all the jackets he had at once and still be shivering. He pressed his back against the side of Tommy’s house and thought about the high ceilings inside, how it must've felt to want for nothing.***Steve needed to fucking breathe. That’s what he’d told himself, before he extricated himself from the crush and press of bodies inside of Tommy’s house. It was funny, he knew that house like the back of his hand – hell, he almost knew it as well as his own house. He knew there were plenty of little places to tuck yourself away, to get away from the brunt of the student body of Hawkin’s High filling up the living room. But he wanted fresh air, and even the biting chill of February air would do. When you grew up in a place like Indiana, you came to expect that come the winter months.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Love My Way, by the Psychedelic Furs

He hadn’t been at school the last two days, but Billy wouldn’t miss an excuse to get trashed off Tommy’s shit. Fucking lemming. His face hurt like a motherfucker still, but at least it didn’t look half as bad as before. 

He’d shoved a few disappointing potential conquests away already, having to move himself out to the side of the house to keep from grimacing at the next pair of acrylic nails that clung to his leather jacket. Time was a slow fucking drip, like watching water drip out of a leaky faucet. You didn’t know how to fix it so in the end you just looked away, tried pushing the sound out of your mind. At least, that’s what Billy did. 

He chanced a look over his shoulder before he stepped out through the sliding glass door for a smoke, his eyes landing on Harrington. It surprised him at first, the idea of him even coming to these things anymore. He figured he thought he was too good for them, or at least felt too awkward to come to them after the spectacularly remembered rumors of him and Wheeler having a blowout at Tina’s. High school wasn’t much longer for any of them though, probably no use trying to give a shit about it. 

The cigarette between Billy's lips was a constant, one of the small handful that he had. The way his lungs burned when he inhaled was another, and unfortunately so was the cold of Hawkins in fucking February. If it was California the sun might just now be going down for good and he wouldn’t need to wear basically all the jackets he had at once and still be shivering. He pressed his back against the side of Tommy’s house and thought about the high ceilings inside, how it must've felt to want for nothing. 

***

Steve needed to fucking breathe. That’s what he’d told himself, before he extricated himself from the crush and press of bodies inside of Tommy’s house. It was funny, he knew that house like the back of his hand – hell, he almost knew it as well as his own house. He knew there were plenty of little places to tuck yourself away, to get away from the brunt of the student body of Hawkin’s High filling up the living room. But he wanted fresh air, and even the biting chill of February air would do. When you grew up in a place like Indiana, you came to expect that come the winter months.

He ended up at the side of the house, where there was a small alley between the siding and the newly-stained wooden slat fence. Him and Tommy used to play over here when they were kids. He was slouching against the wooden slats, one hand buried in the pocket of his winter puff jacket with the green and yellow Tigers stripes. He was keeping the other hand warm with the burn of a cigarette, the ember keeping the chill away from his fingertips as he thought about the party. It was so weird. He didn’t even know why he was here. Figured he should maybe go home. He’d originally showed up for cheap booze and some semblance of not being alone on a Friday night. 

What he’d always liked about these high school parties escaped him at the moment – he guessed they’d kind of been off since Tina’s Halloween party. Why the hell was he here? It was a far cry from having D&D nights with the nerd squad assembled in his den, or having a movie night (watching Rambo for the 54th time because Lucas was fucking obsessed. Even Mike had complained about that one last weekend.) And Steve would have been embarrassed to say it out loud, but he’d prefer to be ‘babysitting’ - or whatever it was he did - tonight, than being here. 

Oh how far the King had fallen.  
Steve stirred a little as somebody else sidled over the the edge of the house, in the gully of grass and stacked up firewood. Steve glanced up and felt himself instantly stiffen, shoulders tightening against the fence, when he saw Hargrove. He’d been out of school for two days, nobody really knew why. Steve hadn’t NOTICED, but he’d…made note of it. You took note when the guy who’d been harassing you for months wasn’t there for a few days. When you could finally catch your breath. Steve blew out a mouthful of smoke in Hargrove’s direction. His face looked off in the shadows, but Steve couldn’t quite tell how. He gave an awkward nod like a total nerd - didn’t even know why.

***

Billy blinked in surprise, eyebrows furrowed at Harrington’s greeting. Probably drunk, maybe as much as he was, and that reminded him. He leaned over to fish the whiskey bottle he’d pilfered from Tommy out of the snow, cigarette in his mouth to free his hands as he flicked the cap off. It tasted a lot better going down than the plastic bottled shit he stole from Melvald’s, though booze was booze as long as it was free. 

“The fuck is it still snowing?” he asked, more to himself than Harrington. The drinks all leading up to this one made everything a little softer around the edges, made him feel maybe on the edge of friendly. Sort of friendly. He took another swig and held the bottleneck precariously between his fingers as he motioned toward Harrington, gave his own little nod finally. “Here, not in fighting shape tonight. Lucky for you.”

***

Steve felt a little like a gazelle in a lion’s sights, and maybe his first instinct was to leave. They’d been doing a pretty damn good job of dancing around each other up until this point, so why not now? But he was here first dammit. He felt a little loose though, nodding like a little idiot, because he didn’t want to be mean and just flat out ignore him either – though he should. Pretend he didn’t even exist. Steve was pretty good at that actually, but that was mostly when Billy was pestering the shit out of him – and it usually got a pretty good rise out of him. Hargrove didn’t seem to like being ignored. A button to be pressed.

Steve’s lips were still green from the red Solo cup of Jungle Juice he’d already downed a few refills of, all about the cheap booze that was so far removed from the $300.00 shit in his dad’s liquor cabinet. But then Hargrove was…was reaching out, extending yet more alcohol – whiskey? – and well, Steve wasn’t just going to snub him, he guessed. His mouth twisted in indecision. He felt like if he leaned forward to take it, Billy was gonna – he didn’t know – pop him one or something. Even so, Steve leaned forward, arm outstretched to accept the offered bottle. Not sure if this was a trap.

“Oh uh…thanks.” Steve breathed out, breath misting the air between them. “Snows the most here in spring. Welcome to Indiana.” 

Snow drifted down around them like bits of ash, or pollen. It made Steve a little jumpy when it snowed anymore, when he caught it out of the corner of his eye. He took a swig of the cheap whiskey. Let it burn all the way down, baring his teeth a little. Smooth.

Steve snorted. “Oh yeah, lucky me.” Then, whistled low, when he got a better look at his face, up close like that . “Damn…I guess not. What happened to you? Somebody else not so lucky?” 

***

Billy’s expression shuttered for a moment before he corrected himself, gritting his teeth in a smile as he took the bottle back. He took another drink before sticking the bottle into a new hole in the snow, hissing and then evening out while the whiskey did its job. He leaned back against the house on his less favorable shoulder at first, another tight lipped smile on his face while he adjusted. 

“Not much point showing up to English if you can’t see enough to read,” he said in lieu of answering, figured Neil broke the record player over my back wasn’t a good answer to give, well, fucking anybody. 

He gave Harrington a quick once over, the careful kind he’d gotten pretty good at over the years. There was some kind of environmental benefit of alcohol, nobody really knowing what they were doing so what did it matter if Billy’s eyes lingered on the beauty marks on the left side of Harrington’s face? He didn’t make a habit of it, looked out into the dark nothing past Tommy’s yard instead, took another drag for good measure. 

“Why aren’t you inside?” he asked after a beat, tipping his head back lazily, smile lazy too. “Charming the panties off some chick? Sidling up to Tommy, reliving the good ol’ days?”

***

Something twisted in Steve, inspiring a silence within him as he thought about that for a moment – when Billy’d knocked him silly against the Byer’s living room floor, Steve hadn’t been able to see quite right for a couple days. Apparently that was also a side effect of a concussion - that had been really fun to deal with. And Steve couldn’t read so great to begin with.

Steve took a long draw off of his smoke, holding it in for a second, before he let it out through his nostrils. 

He really didn’t know what to say to that about not being able to see well enough, aside from something snide about how Billy’d left him in the same fucking boat last fall. And he knew a diversion tactic when he saw it, half faded or not. “Yeah, guess I know what that’s like.”

He felt Billy’s eyes on him – felt the other boy sizing him up, probably finding him to be wanting in one way or another. But it made a sizzle of electricity swath over his skin, even beneath the cover of his heavy winter jacket, the rough denim of his jeans. Raising gooseflesh like he was cold. But he wasn’t.

Steve looked away from Billy’s slow smile, and the burn of those too-blue eyes.

“I could ask you the same question. I’m sure the subjects are awaiting their king.” Steve tongued at the cigarette filter, like a distraction. 

“And c’mon. You’ve gotta know he and me, we aren’t – like that anymore. He never shuts up about it.” Of course Billy had to know. They weren’t friends anymore. Hadn’t been for a while. Not since well before Billy even showed up on the scene. “Don’t you have a date that’s missing you or something?” Billy never seemed to show up to one of these things dateless, Steve’d noticed. 

***

“I wouldn’t be too heartbroken about Tommy, the guy’s a fucking noid,” Billy said, looking back out at the void instead of lingering on Harrington’s tongue. “Decided to go stag tonight. Probably should’ve thought that over, Tina’s having a fucking field day throwing her gal pals at me. Not in the mood.”

Never in the mood, actually, not that anyone knew that. The girls were nice enough but missing something key between their legs. Not that they didn’t have a good time, he made sure the rouse stuck around. Just another five or six months until he didn’t have to do it anymore, just a few more months of faking it until the day he got to scream I’m a fucking queer you hicks right at the You’re Leaving Hawkins sign. Hopefully going somewhere better after, just had to last that long, survive that long. 

“Kinda getting why you stopped doing this shit sometimes. It’s a fuckin’ drag,” he said through his cigarette, letting himself close his eyes and be tired just for a minute. Some short reprieve before climbing back into his monkey suit and howling in a crowd of people. 

***

“Trust me, I’m not.” Steve shook his head a little, brown locks fanning out over his forehead, He sniffed a little, the end of his nose turning pink in the cold. “You seem happy enough to let him ride on your coattails now, so, enjoy that.” That was something that Tommy always needed – someone to hang on to. He’d been like that since they were little.

Steve raised a brow a little at that – not in the mood? According to the student body of Hawkins High, Billy Hargrove walked around with a raging boner 24/7. When was he not in the mood? Steve gave him a dubious look, like he didn’t quite believe him.

A laugh startled it’s way out of Steve – one of those sort of half drunk laughs that sneaks up on you and you don’t even know it’s happening until it’s bubbling out of you, maybe a little hysteric on the edges. He rubbed a finger over his eyebrow, smoothing the fine hairs down as he gave Billy an incredulous look. Stopped – doing it? Billy had basically taken it over by force, - Steve told himself it hadn’t been before that. That he hadn’t just….stopped. Billy had been so determined to wrestle it out of his cold dead hands.

But Steve had to take pause, the laugh dying in his throat like a living thing at the look on Billy’s face. Eyes closed, those long, dark lashes fanned out over his cheeks like ebony crescents. Steve swallowed. He’d never seen a look like that on Billy’s face before, surrounded by his cronies and hanger-ons like Tommy. He looked…tired. But like, a bone-weary sort of tired that Steve was intimately familiar with as of late. He looked...vulnerable.

“It’s not fuckin’ worth it. Dunno why you wanted it so bad to begin with.” 

***

“Oh, I dunno,” Billy said through a sigh, flicking his cigarette away with eyes still closed, rolling his neck out slowly. “Makes everything a little easier. Not everybody’s got what they want to start, people like me have to elbow into it. Do it well, though.”

He could hear Tommy hollering for him inside, probably looking around like a lost fucking puppy. It didn’t do anything but make him shut his eyes tighter, blindly fishing for another cigarette and lighting it, the zippo in his hand hanging limply at his side after. 

“Mind grabbing that bottle? The second I step into the light I’m getting fucking dragged back inside,” he asked, biting the inside of his cheek and pressing himself even further against the house. “Payment’s in the bottle, drink whatever the fuck you want.”

***

Steve tilted his head, a little confused, a little drunk, gaze flickering towards the halo of light at the corner of the house – where the floodlight lit up the backyard from the big deck with the hot tub. He could hear Tommy from here as well – needed to have his person that he’d attached himself to. 

Then those hazy, whiskey dark eyes came back to Billy, as if magnetized to the rough-around-the-edges blonde. Tracing the lines of his body. The way he pressed into the side of the house – the way his jaw twisted tight, the way he took out another cigarette, seeming almost desperate for the kick of the nicotine at that moment. Steve blinked, feeling fuzzy. Listening to Billy. 

Then he took a few steps away from the fence, leaning down slow to pluck the bottle up from the it’s little nest in the snow. He unscrewed the lid to slosh a mouthful down, squinting at Billy. Tommy called again. Billy had pressed even farther into the house siding.

“Hey uh.” Steve couldn’t have said why he said it. It tumbled out of him. “You wanna…you wanna go? You wanna get outta here? You…don’t look like you wanna be here, man.” 

The second he said it, Steve’s shoulders went rigid with something like shock that he’d just said that. He stared at Billy like a startled owl. Like somebody else was talking out of his mouth.

***

Billy’s expression matched Steve’s for a minute, blinking much like he had the second they’d seen each other tonight. He swiped the bottle out of Steve’s hand and took one last, long drink before he realized it had been drained, his skin buzzing and his head light. He nodded before he even realized it, chucking the bottle out somewhere in the distance and straightening up. 

“I’d—yeah, I don’t wanna fucking be here,” he said, on pain of death wouldn’t admit to how open he let his face be for a minute. “You have anywhere in mind?”

How he got from body checking Harrington at practice just a week or so ago to agreeing to get out of the party with him, he didn’t know. But it was like music to his fucking ears, the idea of getting away from all of these people. Hopefully they’d both forget the way the air sort of opened between them but he’d take it for now, let himself look just a little longer. 

***

Steve wasn’t sure what was happening then. He felt as if they were in some giddy, half place, that wasn’t quite reality, but wasn’t quite the Upside Down, some in-between place that wasn’t real, but was still happening. It had something to do with the all-too-familiar exhaustion on Billy’s face when he’d closed his eyes, and something to do with the way his eye looked like a burnt out lightbulb, and something to do with the bright, open look that washed over his face when he was given an option to get out. 

As if he were being held here against his will or something, and Steve had given him an escape. 

There was a crunching in the snow, like footsteps. If it was Tommy, and he found them here, they were fucked – they wouldn’t get anywhere. Steve, in that fuzzy sweet spot where he didn’t know if he was drunk, reached out to grab at Billy’s arm. It was foolhardy to touch Billy. On a good day, Steve would know that.

“Hargrove??” Came a call – much closer than before. 

Steve tugged gently at Billy’s arm, whispering “I dunno. C’mon.”

He released Billy to stumble back towards the end of the little alleyway between house and fence. Just behind the woodpile, there was a black release latch – you wouldn’t even know it was a gate, looking at it. Unless you already knew it was there. 

He looked over his shoulder at Billy as he pulled the latch – the gate creaking just a little as it sighed open. His eyes, almost black in the night, asked ‘coming?’ - snow drifting down between them.

***

Billy didn’t need much time to consider his options, trailing behind Steve and out into the sea of cars parked outside of the house. They’d left just in time, the sound of Tommy yelling outside way too fucking close for comfort. Thankfully they were out of sight and Billy sighed in relief once they hit the end of the driveway, leaning against a car he didn’t recognize and smiling. It felt real, even for just a second. 

“I—hey, thanks man,” he said, the smile still present until he locked it away, shuttered his expression enough to be his usual self. “Listen, I—“

He looked at Steve, the way the snow fell onto his hair, the little grin on his face, the romantic dip in his top lip. Maybe he’d say sorry now, but it felt like pulling teeth to even consider it. He was, had been for months, wanted to tell Harrington that it wasn’t him he’d been hitting that night. Except then he’d be stepping out of the monkey suit a little too far, probably sound fucking crazy. Not that he wasn’t, but still. 

“Probably can’t drive,” he said instead, patting his jacket for his keys in case Tina had lifted them; wouldn’t be the first time, walking him into a bear trap of fake nails and hairspray. “Got any ideas?”

***

Steve didn’t think he’d ever hear the word ‘thanks’ out of Billy Hargrove’s mouth in this lifetime, but here they were. Steve grinned at him, flashing a bit of white teeth and soft lips. As Billy leaned against some rando’s car, Steve stood a few feet from him, tipping his head back - gazing up at the snow heavy, yellow hued clouds – catching snowflakes in his eyelashes. 

It had been a little exhilarating dipping out of there at the exact same moment that Tommy was about to discover them, ruining their chances at getting away – which Steve wasn’t too sure why that was so important, but it was. 

Looking at Billy, for a second, he was smiling, and it was worth it for that brief smile. It almost didn’t look like Billy. But it was gone as soon as it came. 

“Yeah, no problem. Tommy’s….Tommy’s a lot, so. I get it.” He watched the way Billy’s eyes dipped down to his mouth. Compulsively, Steve licked his lips, sure they were dry. “Oh…oh, right.” Steve said, suddenly a little crestfallen. He hadn’t thought about that. They were both a little plastered. “Damn, I didn’t…think about that.” 

He bit at his lower lip now, chapped with the weather, and he glanced over at the his brick red beamer. Well shit, he couldn’t think of anything. What? Try and drive home and hope neither of them wrapped one of their cars ‘round a tree?

“I mean uh…I guess…we could walk. It’s a little shitty outside, but…I mean Tommy only lives a few blocks from me.” Steve shrugged. He knew it was snowing. Didn’t really have any better ideas, though. 

***

“Lead the way,” Billy said, making a sweeping gesture with his arm and following suit. He looked behind him one last time before Tommy’s house was out of sight because it felt important for some reason, watching something fade away and walking into something else. It wasn’t unlike how it had felt to look in the rearview mirror a few months back, watching California fade into obscurity, only maybe this time it wasn’t something awful. 

His eyes scanned the houses on either side of the street as they walked, taking in useless columns and high ceilings in doorways. It seemed stupid to have money and no idea what to do with it, all of these people putting their life's work into this of all fucking things. He stumbled a bit as he walked and bumped into Harrington, legs made loose with alcohol. His arm practically tingled where they’d connected and he had to tamp the feeling down, it’s not fucking like that ringing in his ears. 

“What’s it like, Harrington?” he asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “Having all this shit?”

***

Steve felt all good around the edges, like he was a little blurred out, a Polaroid just a tad out of focus. He stumbled along with Billy, and when Billy bumped up against him, wobbling like the total drunk he was – well, Steve felt his entire side light up like the Fourth of July. He blamed it on the buzz. He rubbed his lips together and hummed a song that was stuck in his head by The Cure. Staring up at the sky as he walked and almost falling all over himself a few times. But as Billy asked him a question, Steve tried to actually focus. To pay attention.

“Mmh…what shit?” Steve squinted at him, almost tripping over his own feet.

He thought Billy’s voice had a bit of bite to it, but he didn’t get what for. But then again, why should he be surprised? It was Billy. What the hell were they doing here? Together? Going to…going to Steve’s house? 

Steve looked down at himself incredulously. “I don’t have…anything?” Just his clothes he guessed. 

***

“Beg to differ,” Billy said, eyebrows furrowed in a facsimile of irritation, gesturing wildly to the neighborhood. “Fuckin—Loch Nora, all the poor little rich boy shit.”

He stumbled into Steve again before his eyes caught on a few Reagan Bush ‘84 signs sticking out of the yard on his right. Before he knew it he was yanking two of the pickets out of the manicured lawn and cracking them in half over his knee, cackling high and happy. The floodlights from the entryway turned on and Billy’s hand closed around Steve’s jacket sleeve, yanking him along until they were a block away. 

“No security systems on...Old Cherry, that’s for fucking sure,” he said as he caught his breath, smiling with his hands on his knees. “Let me guess, yours is the one with the enormous driveway down there.”

***

Steve frowned at that, grumbling. “Not some ‘poor little rich boy...’” He slowed to a stop as Billy hopped over into the yard, swaying a little as he stood still on the spot, staring at the blonde and idly wondering what the hell he was doing. Dizzy brown eyes widened as Steve’s mouth popped open, and he threw a wild glance towards the front door. “Mr. Howard is gonna KILL you – “ He hissed all crazy, before Billy was grabbing onto Steve’s jacket – tugging him along like he was a tug boat, Steve the oversized, heavy freighter trying to keep up behind him.

Steve was breathing hard by the time they came to a stop a block or so away, glancing over his shoulder, mouth hanging open - an undecided smile at the corner. A cold sweat was on the back of his neck, with something like a thrill lighting up his spine from running. He could still hear Mr. Howard’s dogs going crazy, even at this distance.  
‘Who the hell did this?!?’ He heard a distant shout. ‘Damn kids!’

Steve found himself laughing a little, twisting back towards Billy, slapping easily at his shoulder. “Holy shit,” he kept laughing, breathless with it. “I coulda told you that before you did that, Mr. Howard is nuts. He’ll sic his Chihuahuas on you, all, all ‘sic balls, Chopper.’” 

Jesus he was spending too much time around the nerd brigade. They’d been obsessing over some Stephen King ‘Novellas’ lately (It’s a novella, Steve. Say it with me. Novella.) And they couldn’t shut up about ‘The Body.’ Will didn’t seem to love it, though. Steve didn’t blame him.

Steve blinked, still feeling kinda punch drunk and buzzy from their dash from danger and Mr. Howard’s tiny dogs. “Huh? Oh yeah! Yeah that’s my house.” Steve pointed at it.

When they got closer to the house, Steve started digging through his pockets for his keys, standing on the front stoop, trying not to drop them. 

***

Billy stared up at the big, red double doors in front of them, a little intimidated by how heavy they looked. All he could think suddenly was I really do not belong here but it wasn’t like he was going to try walking all the way home in this shit. At least not yet, maybe if it let up a little, though he dreaded to think of what might be waiting up for him in the living room. 

When the doors were finally eased open he whistled low, kicking snow off his boots before making his way inside. Rich people’s houses all looked the same to him but they definitely didn’t all have the row of photos in the entryway, his eyes lighting up at what he might find when he stalked forward. 

He wasn’t disappointed, not in the slightest. His mouth went crooked with something sort of fond and amused at a photo of what looked like grade school-age Harrington, braces and big hair abounding. He lifted a finger to tap a picture of Steve as a baby, fat and less than happy to be posing in some kind of onesie suit. Cute, he thought, though what came out was a hum. 

***

Steve was easing his sneakers off, realizing that they’d gotten wet in the snow, and even the toes of his socks were a bit damp now. He shivered with the change of temperature between the February outdoors, and the well heated, 78 degree temperature setting of his house. He always kept it warm. He tossed his jacket on the hook, and when he turned to ask Billy if he could get his jacket – the manners to ask ingrained into him like a second skin – Steve winced, biting his tongue. 

Oh god, so embarrassing. 

He watched Billy tap at one of the few pictures that made Steve want to crawl into a hole and die. Billy wouldn’t be the first to give him shit over that one, probably wouldn’t be the last – Steve had had a lot of parties at his house back in the day, but usually he had enough time, and sense, to hide the pictures.

“Yeah, yeah I know. My mom, she loves those pictures. I, I think she’d notice if I - y’know, set them on fire. Or whatever.”

Steve felt a flush crawling up his neck, staining his cheeks, and lighting the tips of his ears as he started into the living room around the banister of the stairs. 

“You, you want anything?” 

***

Billy’s mouth was still pulled up at the corner when he turned his head to look at Steve, trying to compare the chubby face in the photo to what he was seeing now. He swallowed and tried to swallow his expression down too, giving it one more tap before following Steve into his living room. White leather couches made him want to scoff but Harrington was asking him a question. 

“Hm? Oh, if you’ve got good shit to drink I’ll take it off your hands, probably better than the swill Tommy pulls out for parties,” he said, trying to ignore the nagging little voice saying if you get too drunk Neil’s gonna know tomorrow, he’s gonna know the second you get in. The buzz he already had going told him it didn’t matter though, that maybe he’d get caught in the snow on the way home, just disappear. 

“Parentals not here?” he asked, easing himself into one of the couches and kicking his feet up over the back, laughing at himself when he moved upside down. Huh, funny looking. 

***

“Only the best at Casa de Harrington.” Steve smiled lightly, woozy as he settled down onto the couch a space over from Billy – not too close to make it weird or whatever. They didn’t have a lot of furniture in the living room, his mom liked to keep it clean, minimalist – modern looking, he guessed. It felt like a fucking museum. Steve hated it. The leather squeaked when he settled into it. 

“Nooope.” Steve said, popping the p. They weren’t there, nor did he really wanna get into it. “But my mom’s gonna murder me if you get that snow all over.” He eyed Billy’s snow flecked boots, melting to slush on the soles. Wrinkling his nose.

“Oh right. Booze.” Steve mumbled. He stood right back up. As Billy started laughing, Steve asked “What’s so funny?” as he dug around in the liquor cabinet for something his dad wouldn’t miss. 

***

“Yuppie paintings look funny upside down,” Billy said, giggling before frowning over at Steve. He could only see Steve’s hair bouncing around and it made him feel a little warm, had him pausing to let the blood rush to his head a minute longer before moving so he was laying on his back instead. 

He looked at his boots where they hung off the armrest and let out a put upon sigh, kicking one foot petulantly in Steve’s direction even though he couldn’t see it. It felt nice, getting to do shit where people couldn’t see. He did that a lot, had to do that a whole lot. Then Steve’s words registered and he kicked again once he’d turned around, one arm flopping over the side while he went limp. 

“You take ‘em off if you’re so worried about it.”

***

“They look funny right way up too,” Steve mused, voice echoing from inside of the cabinet. Reaching for the stuff in the very back, looking like he was about to tumble into the rabbit hole. He finally snagged what he wanted, and slumped back onto his ass on the perfect carpet, rubbing at his nose. 

He had to put some real effort in making it back over to Billy, dragging a few squat, crystal cups with him. He put them on the glass and wrought iron coffee table, having shuffled back over on his knees, because standing up seemed too difficult. He popped the cork with his teeth and sloshed some sort of amber liquid into the glasses, several fingers too much. He didn’t’ know what it was. It looked expensive, though. 

He gave Billy a look at the comment about taking his boots off. “You’re way drunker than I thought if you expect me to touch those.” Steve said mildly. 

***

“Am not,” Billy said with a shake of his head, the movement aborted with a look of mock offense, his hand pressed to his chest. “Excuse me, these are my favorite boots.”

He reached with his no longer limp arm to grab for one of the glasses, draining about half before setting it back down with a thud. His heel dig into the armrest of the couch once, twice for good measure, a wide grin spreading across his face. 

“Friend got ‘em for me in SF, sixteenth birthday? Sixteenth birthday,” he said, his eyes on the boots in question, rotating his ankle before letting his head fall back. “Used—used to be a chubby little punk kid, wore these Doc Martens I stole for years, still wore ‘em when they had holes in the bottom.”

The thought was sobering, if only for just a second. He could sort of remember the day they were given to him. Birthdays weren’t exactly fun for him, no attention paid to them since his mom bolted, but he imagined he’d probably wear this pair out the same as the ones before. Maybe that could be some kind of constant too. 

***

“Eh. Well I tried. But my blood is on your hands.” Steve let out a big breath as he tucked his legs under the coffee table, arms folded over the glass. Watching Billy with half lidded eyes as he sipped at his mystery alcohol, letting it burn in his belly as he nursed it. Slowly rotating the glass in circles on top of the table, like his dad did on his office desk sometimes. It was gone fast. He refilled and started again.

He tipped his head, resting his chin on his hands – listening to Billy with what appeared to be rapt attention. Eyes bright despite the buzz. He never heard Billy talk about himself, and he knew he needed to pay attention. This never happened. They never just talked. Steve – Steve hardly knew anything about him. Not really. Nothing besides his scare tactics, and what he looked like in the shower, and how he pushed Max around – the way he looked with blood on his knuckles, and now a busted eye.

Steve didn’t know shit about California. “SF….S….San Fran…cisco?” He asked, slowly, clearly unsure. A little wrinkle forming on his brow like on a pug pup. Then he couldn’t help but smile at the description, crinkles springing up around his eyes. “Really? I can’t…I can’t imagine that.” But he could, if he thought about it. And it was…well he didn’t know. Kinda cute to think about.

***

“Man, it was bad. Prepubescent Billy Hargrove was not a sight for sore eyes,” Billy said, twisting until he was laying on his side facing Steve, head pillowed under an arm. He matched smiles with Harrington once he saw the look on his face, figured he could keep going. “Chubby little shit stomping around like I already had muscles, jumping on people at shows. Mostly begging to get my ass kicked, wasn’t that tall either.”

He made grabby hands with his free arm until he could reach the glass, draining it and holding it out to Steve for more. Then he gave him his best and fakest thankful grin before taking another drink, sliding it over and letting his arm fall again. It was weird, how easy it felt to relax on this couch, something probably not meant for lounging. Maybe he just liked the idea of dirtying up the place a little. 

“Yeah, San Francisco. It was nice while it lasted,” he said with a sigh, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling before looking at Steve again, eyes landing on those beauty marks. “You ever have to get those checked? Your freckles, I mean. It’s kinda like somebody just—y’know, flicked a paintbrush over you. S‘nice.”

What the fuck are you saying. He could practically hear himself yelling inside of his head but it didn’t feel like it mattered if they were drunk, all the usual precautions just a little less stringent. Still he tried to school his face back, swallowed against the lump in his throat. 

***

Steve laughed a little, a delighted, soft sound. Things were going all muted and swirly and nice as he nodded and pushed the glass forward, letting Billy fill up the crystal, sloshing up the sides. He wasn’t sure how he was already on his third. He’d like, just sat down. Alcohol definitely loosened his tongue, and this stuff was a helluva lot stronger than ‘jungle juice.’ Steve wondered if his mouth was still dyed green. He’d been told when he drank too much, he said stupid shit, and got real handsy. Steve didn’t think that was true, really.

“Awh.” Steve smiled, tilting his chin down to hide his smile against the back of his hand – palm flat on the glass tabletop. He talked against his skin, words muffled. He was imagining. “No, that sounds cute. Bet you were cute.” He turned his head now, to rest his temple against his knuckles. Strands of brown flopping into his eyes as he gazed sweetly at Billy. Face open.

“Y’know, Dustin still has a lot of his baby fat, and he’s, he’s all…worried about it. But ‘s not bad. You’re so…different. Now.” His eyes searched Billy’s face for a moment, then roved over his body, all stretched out like a big cat – made of hard lines, carved muscle and a sharp jawline. Felt something warm gather in his stomach that wasn’t from the alcohol.

Steve blinked, ready to change the subject to the Golden Gate Bridge – but instead, the hand that had been wrapped around his glass lifted to touch briefly at his own cheek. Fingertips damp with condensation.  
“Mmm. Oh.” Steve turned his head back so he wasn’t looking at Billy, eyes darkening, and he took another draw from the crystal cup. How was it almost empty again?

“Nawh, my um. No.” He blinked, took a minute to register the ‘S’nice.’ He blinked again, squinting. Didn’t think he heard right. “Tommy always called ‘em shitstains. He’s such a…fuckin’ prick.” Steve hiccuped. “You...think they’re nice?”

***

“Tell ‘im it’ll go away, bet he’ll shoot up like a weed,” Billy said, raising his hand in the air with a whistle, brushing Steve on its way down. The word cute made his cheeks feel like they were on fire and he tried to move past it but it was like his heart was trying to punch its way out of his chest. 

He didn’t know how to answer, stiffened up on his side but didn’t move. Before he realized it he was nodding, that lump in his throat again and rendering him speechless for once. His eyes were lingering too long on Harrington’s face and he knew it, at the loose nature of it, that fucking dip in his lip. If Steve remembered he knew he could convince him—in his usual way—not to say anything. Wouldn’t be the first time, probably not even the worst time. 

“Yeah, I do,” he said slowly, carefully, not quite making eye contact but settling somewhere to the right of Steve. “They’re really nice.”

***

Steve’s eyes tracked the way the red blush spread over Billy’s skin – completely foreign beneath that golden glaze, because Billy was always confident. He never seemed to get embarrassed. Steve was fascinated, openly staring, lips parted slightly. And Billy was staring right back at him – Steve could feel those blue eyes all over his face, studying him, and it made Steve swallow. He could still taste the burn of alcohol on his tongue. Steve lifted his cheek from the back of his hand, where there were small indents on his skin, blinking blearily at Billy.

He mirrored the other boy, a return of his blush from earlier – staining his cheeks, and neck, because it always spread low. There was something in Billy’s voice that made heartbeat suddenly pick up – and it was like something was happening here, something Steve should probably pay attention to – should question – because they were barely acquaintances that didn’t beat the shit out of each other on the regular. Definitely weren’t friends. But he was too buzzed at this point to take note of it. 

Steve sucked his lower lip into his mouth, chewing on it for a second as he continued to watch Billy. Nobody liked Steve’s freckles. He knew even his mom hated them. Apparently the gene had skipped a few generations. She’d talked about getting them removed, which the doctor had patiently told her was a long, slow, painful procedure. His mom still wanted it done. 

And Billy liked them. Something shifted.

“I think you might be the only one.” Steve said slowly, with the sure sensation that he was testing the waters here. He always did stupid stuff when he drank. Steve downed the rest of the glass, liquid courage. He wriggled a little on the carpet, loose limbed with the drink, and twisted out of his forest green, cashmere sweater. He almost got it stuck on his head as he pulled it over his torso. Held it in a pile in his lap.“You see any you think I should have ‘checked?’” He asked, a little breathless with the question.

***

Billy leaned up on his arm and sat up slowly, staring at Steve like he was stuck in a room with a very, very dangerous animal. Steve Harrington was putting moves on, he had to be. It was possible he was just thinking it to make himself feel better about how impossibly warm he felt watching Steve take his shirt off, but alcohol told him otherwise. It was trying to get him to remember the guys on the basketball team back in California, the look in their eyes before he blew them. The slow way a man moved in whatever gay bars he snuck into back there. This was like that. 

He slid down to the floor in front of Steve and tugged him forward by the sweater he held in his hands, his own coming up to frame Steve’s face. A split second later their mouths met and Billy was desperate for it, maybe in a way he’d never felt before. Just this quick closeness, anyone at all inviting him in, or maybe it was just Harrington. It felt better than he’d imagined, all the alarm bells ringing in his head to no avail. 

***

Steve’s breath had picked up the second Billy had sat up, so slow, every muscle in his body painting a picture that Steve had no problems interpreting. He sat at the edge of the coffee table, on the carpet, fingers twisted into his sweater – the cooler, direct air of the house raising goosebumps across his skin, across his chest, and something else there, too. Steve told himself it was because of the air. 

Steve gulped as Billy lowered himself in front of him, the charge between them so great, he could practically smell the sharp tang of ozone before a storm. He thought of the way he told Dustin, ‘electricity,’ and he realized he’d never been talking about Nancy in the first place. He’d have said there was a 50/50 shot that he was about to get his face pounded in, or kissed.

Steve’s nostrils flared as Billy closed the gap between them, pulling Steve forward by his sweater. Steve held on, let himself be reeled in, raised only slightly up onto his knees. Billy’s hand was at the side of his face, and their mouths connected. Steve let out a gasp of air he didn’t realized he’d been holding. He leaned into Billy, his wasted mind left far behind. He dropped the sweater, where it pooled on the carpet between their knees. 

With his newly freed hands, Steve reached out, spread his hands over the belly of Billy’s button up, sliding upwards, hungry for skin. Finding the dip of fabric that led him to bare skin, gliding over that tan – only beginning to lose the glow in a Hawkins winter. His hands seemed tentative at first, needing to get their bearings. His mouth, not so much. His mouth responded instantly, with a hunger he didn’t know had been there, like he’d been starving for this, and the taste of Billy’s tongue.

***

Billy had been shoved away a few times before in situations not so different from this, the other shoe always seeming to drop. He’d kind of expected it; a hand pushing him backwards, maybe a punch, not a queer or something fucking gutting like that. It was hard to tell which was worse, all of that or this, this little taste of something he really wasn’t supposed to have. Not their mouths opening for each other, not Steve Harrington’s hands roaming over him like they were trying to memorize something. 

It didn’t stop him from going on, from climbing into Steve’s lap and tugging him closer, his own hands moving. He slid one up into Steve’s hair and it was as soft as he’d thought it would be, the other gently scratching a path down Steve’s chest in what little space there was between them now. The sounds coming out of him were traitorous little things, quiet and high like something was being held just inches away from him. 

Reality struck him and made him freeze for a second, his hand stopping its trajectory and his mouth moving back and away. Not far though, just an inch or two. Just enough for him to get a good look at Steve’s lips, to look over his face and hope he didn’t look as fucking terrified as he felt. 

***

This was absolutely wild – really, in Steve’s wildest dreams, he wouldn’t have…okay. Okay, maybe he would have. He’d…he wouldn’t admit it. But he’d had dreams. Mostly, from before – before Billy had beat the shit out of him. Maybe a little after that too, his mind a little traitor. He definitely wouldn’t admit to that. But this, this was real – at least he thought so. He might be a little plastered, but this was happening. And Billy was, was crawling into his lap,a big, warm, comforting weight against Steve. All body heat, the spice of cologne, the musk of sweat. And Steve had his hands where he’d been telling himself he DIDN’T want to feel, and really, he’d had himself pretty convinced that was true. But his hands were tracing the edges of Billy’s pecs, swiping over the band of his ribcage – with only the space the gap in Billy’s shirt allowed. 

Steve couldn’t believe this was happening. He was punch drunk with it. Giddy with it. Hungry with it.  
His smiling mouth met Billy’s again and again, all tongues and lips. As Billy settled into his lap, he let one arm drop to twine around his waist, beneath his two jackets - leather over denim – to help hold him there, hand braced against hollow of his back. 

He had Billy Hargrove in his lap. His hand was in Steve’s hair, another running blunt nails down Steve’s bare chest. His breath hitched at the sensation, pink lines over pale skin, before he sipped at the sounds Billy was making, short, whiny gasps. Steve swallowed them down, to hold in his belly like memories to examine later.

When Billy froze, Steve stopped too. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until Billy was pulling away, leaving him wanting. Steve’s eyes snapped open, his mouth hanging open as he tried to catch his breath, blinking up at Billy – their height differences reversed with Billy straddling him. Steve went still when he saw the look on Billy’s face. 

He looked…fucking freaked out. 

Oh. Oh shit. It was probably, probably ‘cause…well he guessed…they were…they were drunk, and Steve had just took off his shirt like a little idiot, and…the dumbest thought crossed his mind. Maybe he’d forgotten it was Steve or something. Maybe he really was way drunker that Steve thought. Maybe he’d thought…Steve was a girl. And he just...noticed it was him again.

Steve felt the fire in his gut drop, felt himself go cold as he stared back at Billy. Throat working like he meant to say something. Eyes big - Nancy’d called them his ‘bambi eyes.’

“…Billy?” Steve breathed, voice deeper, raspier than normal. Husky. 

***

Billy licked his lips while he watched Steve’s move, form his name. It was like music to his ears but the anxiety was still there, lighting up every nerve until it felt like it’s all he was made of. Different than anger but still all encompassing, though his fingers flexing in Steve’s hair was a gentle movement, maybe a little more at ease. 

“Should go,” he said softly, but he made no moves to. The hand on his back felt good, maybe the only situation where he’d let anyone try and hold him down or in place. 

He ignored his own advice while his hand moved again, continuing its trajectory down Steve’s chest before it reached the waist of his jeans. He didn’t have to sneak a hand inside to know Steve was hard, Steve’s dick never up for debate even when it wasn’t. His hips rolled down a little and he sighed, a feeling that hadn’t come around in ages, the kind the only came with a hard body up against his. 

“Have to go home.”

***

Steve didn’t want to admit to being confused. He guessed he got confused a lot. Easily. He was trying to add up what was happening, but he wasn’t so great at math, either. It didn’t feel like two plus two was equaling four here – and at least he knew that should be true. 

Steve was making the confused pug wrinkle on his forehead again, which he tried to smooth out after Billy told him he should go. But Billy didn’t move. Didn’t shift, didn’t draw himself out of Steve’s space – he was still bound against Steve, straddling his hips where he sat so easily in Steve’s lap. Steve’s hand slipped out of Billy’s shirt, feeling a bit like a scolded puppy for going someplace it shouldn't have. 

“Oh uh..yeah.” An ‘I’m sorry’ was hot on it’s heels, but Billy’s hand was going lower – fingertips trailing over his skin, lighting up that gooseflesh again. Making him shiver at the touch. He hadn’t been with anyone in a really, really long time. And he felt like somehow some catastrophic misunderstanding had just happened – but he was starving for Billy’s touch. He didn’t want it to end. But he also didn’t want Billy to be freaking out - if Billy didn’t want this. Didn’t want Steve. He guessed he probably should have known that.

“D’you…your car’s at Tommy’s. D’you need me to…” Steve mumbled. He had no idea what he was saying, or offering. He didn’t have his car either. They still weren’t fit to drive. He could walk Billy home, he guessed. “…walk you home?” Steve finished, feeling lame.

But he couldn’t take his attention off of Billy’s hand, snagging against the waistband of his jeans. Something about having that hand in close proximity to his dick – which was hard, straining against denim, up against Billy’s thigh - made him lose all train of thought. What were they saying again?

***

Out of all possible endings to this night, he wasn’t exactly interested in being walked home. Partly because he knew what was waiting at home on a Friday night; Neil fucking hammered, probably waiting up for him, champing at the bit to dole out some discipline. Partly because, well, nothing had actually felt this good in a long time. Not since California, anyway, and a few months felt like a fucking lifetime. 

“I—no. Maybe later,” he said, rolling his hips down again and shivering. He slid his hand down Steve’s jeans finally, fingers curling around his cock and a sigh leaving his mouth like he was the one being touched. “A lot later.”

It was easy then to fit their lips back together. Even easier to use his free hand to put Steve’s back on him, encourage it to hold on a little tighter. He reached behind him after to tug his boots off, grinning into Steve’s mouth and thinking there, happy now? No words actually came out, not once he let himself go, just more of those fucking sounds he usually kept quiet. 

***

Steve’s mouth dropped open as he let out a breathy gasp when Billy got his hand on him, curling around the bulge of his cock where it was sequestered between his skin and denim, stifled and straining. It had started softening, just a bit, but it perked back to almost full attention with the pressure of Billy’s hand.

“Okay,” was all he could seem to manage. But in his mind it was more like a ‘thank god.’ Because he thought he’d really fucked up, or something had gone wrong, but maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

Steve’s hand went easily, guided by Billy, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. This time he flicked open Billy’s pearl snap buttons, tugging the tails of the shirt out of where they’d been tucked into his jeans. Finally getting better access to run over Billy’s washboard stomach, mesmerizing each ridge there. Thankful for lips on his.

When Billy pulled off his boots, Steve let out a small laugh into Billy’s mouth, his tongue sliding over that full lower lip. “Smartass,” he whispered, still laughing - breathy and soft.

The sounds Billy was making – Steve’d never heard any of the girl’s he’d been with make sounds like that, even. They were usually more - he didn’t know, criers or screamers or moaners he guessed. But these, sweet, small sounds – they turned him on. Like, a lot. He thought, maybe if he heard enough of them, he’d probably get off on them untouched. Figured that could be a thing.

“Like your sounds,” Steve gasped against Billy’s mouth, rocking his hips forward to press farther into the touch of Billy’s hand through the rough denim. With his other hand he was pawing at Billy’s dumb heavy jackets – he knew he should have taken them at the door. He wanted them off. 

***

Billy’s cheeks flared up at Steve’s words but he figured it was fine, Steve probably wasn’t paying attention to his face, it was probably just the alcohol. He slipped his hand out of Steve’s pants after a few measured strokes, tugging at his sleeves and huffing when it took a little longer than usual. Fucking layers. After a minute he was blissfully topless, thankful for Harrington’s big, warm, yuppie home. He could almost pretend it was California like this if he kept his eyes closed, only it wasn’t really what he wanted to do. 

He smiled quick and small when Steve’s hand grazed his side, distracted himself by searching for Steve’s other. Once he found it he brought it up to the back of his head, showed him how to cradle it and hoped he’d be able to take it from there. Harrington was a ladies man once, might still have been for all he knew, so he probably had it in him. 

With less distractions and less worries he put himself back into the kiss, snuck his hand back around Steve’s cock and picked up where he left off. It was almost as good as touching himself, finally getting his hands on the big dick he’d been sneaking glances at the past few months, finally getting to feel those wide palms moving over him. If he ended up sighing Steve instead of Harrington, well, he didn’t even notice. 

***

Steve’d never been with a guy. Totally new territory, man. But as Billy guided his hand up to the back of his head, tangled his fingers into those curls – obviously the way he liked, Steve felt himself settle. Because he knew how to do this. And for a second, maybe he hadn’t been sure – did guys like the same things? 

And maybe it wasn’t the same. But maybe it was similar. Maybe guys and girls weren’t so different. Steve wound his fingers up into Billy’s hair, catching on the golden curls. He huffed a breath as Billy’s fingers wound tight around him in his jeans, his belt clinking as it hung open, Steve’s hips stuttering upwards at the pull of Billy’s hand. His other hand curled at Billy’s side, then swept around behind him, to the dimples at his lower back. Finally shirtless, both of them, all bare skin. He dipped his hand further down, fingers sliding beneath Billy’s waist band, middle finger grazing as far down as his tailbone before he slowly slid back out. 

He supported Billy from behind like that, one hand braced against the end of his vertebrae as he rose up on his knees. Got them positioned so, with Billy atop him, he could actually lay him out on the carpet, flat on his back – Steve on top of him, now. He knew how to do this. He leaned back in to catch at Billy’s lips, hips jerking at the heat of Billy’s palm pulling him off. Steve groaned, low and deep at the feel of Billy’s hand, and shucked Billy’s jeans down low on his hips. He had to stop for a minute, breathing hard through an open mouth - just to admire - all muscle, sweat, and that girthy cock bobbing at attention.

“Jesus, you’re gorgeous. I - I’ve always thought so.”

His fingers twisted tighter in gold curls, tugging a little as Steve leaned down to catch Billy’s lips again, desperate and eager enough to click teeth, his tongue sliding a hot stripe down the middle of Billy’s. Short, broken sounds in the back of his throat with each tug of Billy’s hand. 

***

Billy hummed at the compliment, rewarded Steve for it by using his free hand to pull his jeans down, get his cock out a little more. The desire to be naked won out though, his hands leaving Steve’s body to quickly shimmy out of a pair of jeans that he usually had to put on laying down. Once he kicked them away he saw the pile of clothes in his periphery, thought about the picture that they made on Steve’s living room floor. 

He didn’t have any qualms about being naked, usually the first one to lose their clothing. Laid out underneath Steve completely naked was a different animal entirely, made him feel strangely pliant, more like himself than he’d ever gotten to be in Hawkins so far. 

“Off, all of it,” he huffed, reaching up to push Steve’s jeans down the rest of the way, smiling at the hand that stayed in his hair through it. The little tugs made arousal curl hot in his gut each time, his neck loose and his head moving with it like a cat stretching out. “C’mere.”

His hands rested on Steve’s biceps to pull him closer, sliding up his back once they were touching. Spreading his legs felt like second nature, his knees knocking against Steve’s ribs as he snaked himself around him, nails digging into the back he’d been admiring so long. He let himself savor the feeling with his head tipped back, eyes closed and his breath coming in pants. 

***

After they’d kicked away the last of the clothes, jeans gone, boxers gone, everything, because fuck clothes, Steve fought to catch his breath. Admiring Billy’s Greek God body, and the glint off of his medallion, the only thing left. He responded to Billy’s request instantly, easing forward as Billy pulled at his biceps to guide him down. Then Billy’s thighs were around him, around his waist, thick and steady and comforting in a way Steve didn’t know that he understood – tickling his sides with a fine layer of down. 

As Billy’s head tipped back with one of Steve’s hands still buried in his hair, Steve let out a low gasp as they connected – fully flush together, body to body, limbs to limbs, bellies to bellies. “Oh,” Steve breathed. Cock to cock. It made a shudder of arousal punch through Steve as their dicks pressed together – all hot lengths, damp with pre-come, pressing close. Oh.

Steve couldn’t help but press his face into the easily offered throat before him, kissing along the skin there, tasting salt. They were both sweating. The heater was up high. Steve mouthed at the skin there, kissing, licking, running his teeth along it – panting low, hot breaths against Billy’s jugular. Tasting for his pulse. 

With his free hand, Steve reached down and behind, to grab into the meat of Billy’s ass – cupping at it, tugging his hips upwards as Steve pressed his hips downwards – shivering in delight at the sensation of more pressure. Billy was so hot against him, and Steve – had no idea why, but the sensation of Billy’s hot length against his own was driving him fucking wild. He’d never felt anything like it. 

***

Billy gasped for breath at the ceiling, everything soft at the edges once he opened his eyes. He knew he could have eased the way, snuck his hand between them and made the movements more intentional but honestly, it was fucking perfect. Steve gripping his ass and tugging his hair, his mouth hot on his neck and their cocks rubbing together, it was perfect. 

“Harder,” he breathed, sneaking a hand up to the back of Steve’s neck, gentle but insistently keeping his mouth against his neck. He meant his mouth, meant everything, just as long as he didn’t stop. 

It was embarrassing how quick his arousal was spiking, his orgasm not far off and only from this infrequent friction. He knew it wasn’t just that, that it felt bigger and more satisfying than just that. He also knew he wasn’t planning on it being the last one of the night, though he couldn’t help how desperate he felt to keep it at bay. The hand not on Steve’s neck gripped at Steve’s shoulder blade, trying to slow both of them down without much success, whining his displeasure but not trying any harder. 

***

Nance had always liked it soft and slow. This definitely wasn’t Nance, and Steve knew that, but she was also his last point of reference. She was the last thing on his mind, honestly. But it made it easier when Billy gave direction of what he wanted – the skill was there, but he needed a compass, maybe. Needed to know where and how to direct it. 

Steve responded well to the command, as Billy pulled him closer – he could do things harder. He could do everything harder. Where teeth had only raked along the saline skin before, now they nipped, catching just enough, and then Steve sucked against Billy’s throat. He stayed in the same place, sucking just in the junction there – where he could hide it if he needed to. Steve made a point of strong, purposeful suction against Billy’s skin, before tugging the skin between his teeth and biting down – pulling a bruise to the surface to blossom purple. As he pulled away, his tongue lavved over it, soothing the burn. 

Meanwhile, he was rutting into Billy in earnest now – using all of the strength in his right arm to pull Billy into him, effectively grinding them together – hips stuttering and working and going harder just like Billy asked. His fingers digging into the flesh of Billy’s ass. It was all pressure and friction and heat, slicked down with their combined pre-come. 

The pleasure was fireworks behind his eyes, twining vines up his spine, a flurry of sparks over his skin. He’d braced his toes against the carpet for better leverage, and he worried, vaguely, about Billy getting rug-burn. But it wasn’t entirely processing in his brain right, because he was getting close – embarrassingly fast – chasing his pleasure, enraptured with the way Billy pulsed and twitched against his cock. How hot it was. He didn’t really even seem to understand that Billy was trying to slow them down - just swallowed the whine as he finally returned to BIlly’s mouth, searching for kisses.

***

“Fuck, fuck it,” Billy moaned, slipping his hand between their bodies, fingers wrapping deftly around their cocks with a small squeeze. Fuck it, this was worth it. 

It was definitely worth the way Steve’s mouth was seeking his out, left him more than happy to oblige, lips parting easily for whatever Steve felt like giving. If right now was any indication he could give a lot, push harder than he’d probably have given him credit for, just the way he liked it. The carpet stung against his already fucked up back but this was something he could think on fondly, thought maybe the rug burn would cover the bruises there, make it a little easier to forget. 

The sounds coming out of him got choppier, his body tensing as his orgasm streaked its way up his spine. For one endless moment he just gasped into Steve’s mouth, stroking them both even after he was spent and his body was twitching from overstimulation. Then everything went sort of—blank, for a second, all the tension he didn’t know he’d been holding sloughing right off his shoulders like shaking rain off of a coat, limbs loose but still hanging on. 

Perfect. 

***

Steve dipped his tongue into the heat of Billy’s mouth, before catching at his lower lip with his teeth, but then really – they were mostly just breathing against each other’s mouths – perhaps both of them too close to orgasms. Steve could only move his mouth somewhat loosely, just mouthing against Billy’s lips when he could manage it – because Billy was doing this thing with his hand – it was like, like jacking off, but together, pressed together. He couldn’t focus.

Steve hadn’t even thought of doing something like that. Why hadn’t he thought of that? 

Oh jesus, oh jesus it felt so good. Steve groaned, the sound vibrating against the corner of Billy’s mouth as Steve dropped his head at the sensation. Like he couldn’t hold it up anymore. Eyes rolling back a little as his stuttered up, fucking into Billy’s hand, fucking against Billy’s cock, and the sensation. 

Steve released Billy’s ass to join Billy’s hand, wrapping long, slender fingers around those shorter, sturdier ones. Keeping pace, like encouragement.

When Billy hit his orgasm, gasping into Steve’s mouth, it drove Steve right over the edge too. It was all white behind his eyelids and this mindless chasing, weak in the knees, hearth hammering, sugar of the earth kind of feeling. He’d gone rigid with it. It was so good – so good. 

“Oh shit, B-Billy, fuck, s-so good. So good.” Steve panted against Billy’s mouth, all nonsensical babbling, eyes screwed shut. Toes curling as he came - the vibration of Billy’s cock releasing against him making it so much better. “Billy, Billy –”

***

Billy finally let himself sink down into the floor, the hand sticky with come settling on his own chest while the other fell to his side. He was shivering in that nice, weak way that always came after an orgasm, thighs shaking against Steve’s sides and only staying up out of sheer will. Steve’s hand still on his ass was sort of...reassuring, had his eyes fluttering closed without any worry. 

He could feel curls sticking to his face but couldn’t find it in himself to wipe them away, sort of satisfied by the sweat he’d worked up. He swallowed hard as his breath evened out, small sighs sneaking out every few seconds. 

“Hope that’s not it for you,” he said quietly, smiling with his eyes closed, slow and feline. 

***

Steve sank with him, tucking one hand beneath Billy, the other still in his hair – it was loose now, idly stroking through the frizz and curls. Slick with sweat. He settled on top of Billy, both of them going soft slowly, and it was comforting warmth. He relished the way Billy’s thighs shook against his sides. Steve felt loose, like a wrung out sponge, his head against Billy’s shoulder, nose pressed to the edge of his throat. 

He was still breathing hard, trying to catch his breath, eyes closed as he stayed in the afterglow – everything seeming softer somehow, sweeter. Steve pressed a gentle kiss against Billy’s skin, a smile on his lips.

“Mmh…no. But maybe food first.” He knew himself and his drinking habits well enough that if he didn’t get food in him he was gonna crash. “How about you?” He asked it like he knew the answer.

***

“Sink’s worth of water and something with carbs,” Billy said, rolling his neck out but not enough to dislodge Steve’s head away from it. He didn’t really want it to go anywhere, the soft affection almost better than sex, though on pain of death he’d never say it. 

Moving wasn’t quite an option for him yet but he thought he might be able to get Steve to do it. He slowly eased the other boy off and made himself at least sit halfway up, nose wrinkling as his back moved off of the carpet. Looking over his shoulder to try and take a look was stupid but he did it anyway, couldn’t see anything and settled for holding himself partially upright with one hand. 

“Little surprised you’re not giving me the typical speech,” he said, eyebrows raised and eyes closed, his free hand finally sweeping his hair back off of his face. 

***

“I’ve got Gatorade and..saltines?” Steve grinned at him. “Dinner of champions. Breakfast? Shit I dunno what time it is…” He chuckled against Billy’s skin, humming in contentment. 

He never wanted to get up. Gatorade and saltines could totally wait. Steve was a slut for cuddling. He knew that, could admit that. He thought that was the best part. He nuzzled his nose a little against Billy’s throat, ready to settle in for a while longer. But then Billy was easing Steve off, and Steve gave an affronted sound, eyes sliding open as he tried really hard not to pout. Billy was warm, and he felt safe. Steve just wanted to wrap him up in his arms and never move. Well, maybe until they went again. Food somewhere in there.

“What’s the rush?” He grumbled, but he slid back onto his ass on the carpet. 

He caught the way Billy was looking over his shoulder though, and he perked forward a little, brow furrowing to get a look too. But he got distracted at Billy’s offhand comment. Steve tipped his head, frowning a bit – studying the sweep of Billy’s raised brows and the way he didn’t actually look at Steve when he said that. Steve blinked at him.

“Erh…what speech?” Steve shifted a little, feeling a little uncomfortable for the first time since coming down from his high. Saying this was a little new to him was an understatement. Somehow, he didn’t think this was as new for Billy as it was for him. But it was just a feeling. Did he commit some faux paux? “…did I miss something?”

***

“Gotta be close to three by now,” Billy said, decidedly not thinking on what it meant for him later. Looking at Steve was a much better option, all sweet confusion, that little line in his face Billy itched to smooth out with his fingers. 

Next he rolled his shoulders out, the barest grimace on his face like he was stretching out a rarely used muscle. The distraction was nice, made it easier to be comfortable in the situation. Except...except maybe, just maybe, Steve wasn’t lying. Maybe he wasn’t going to say any of that. It was a little dim of him to hope for it, but he could still feel where Steve’s lips had been, soft and sweet. 

“Mm, no,” Billy said lightly as he shook his head, an offhand little gesture. “Get the I’m not a queer, man speech usually. Just assumed, I guess.”

***

Steve stared at Billy, a somewhat awkward set to his shoulders now, and he leaned back, scratching at his belly, a nervous tic as he started to process that. His eyes dropped somewhere to the edge of Billy’s shoulder, sliding out of focus as gears spun in his head. Thinking. 

‘Usually’ and the ‘typical’ speech. It wasn ‘t just that it wasn’t new for Billy, it was apparently old hat. And apparently it usually…didn’t end well. 

Steve was from the rural armpit of Indiana. They had one stoplight, and it usually flashed on yellow because there wasn’t that much traffic. Steve didn’t even know any gay people. ‘Queer’ as Billy put it. Like, literally no one. At least no one out about it. And Steve, Steve didn’t know if he was gay…specifically. He’d dated girls, up until now. He’d dated Nancy. He’d loved Nancy. He knew he could love a girl. But he also knew that he’d been attracted to Billy for a while now, if their shower time after practice, and his own dreams were any indication. Even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself until tonight, it was true. 

And tonight had just kind of…happened. Like things had just fallen into place. Perfectly. 

He liked Billy. 

He could admit that – with his come on Billy’s hand (he really needed to grab a washcloth) and feeling a little robbed of more cuddling time, he could say he liked Billy. 

Maybe this was a train of thought better to be followed later, but he felt on the spot to finish it now. Not later. Honestly he would have been perfectly happy to just roll with tonight and possibly examine it more closely later - what it all meant or....

It wasn’t just a physical thing. And okay yeah Billy beating the shit out of him hadn’t helped things – but Steve had also thrown the first punch. And lied. And you know, they’d stolen the camaro. Well, the kids did. But it was more. It was Billy’s fire, his confidence, his bright, inquisitive eyes. The way that Steve felt like he could probably ask him any question, and he’d know the answer. He was smart. And behind the bluster, Steve always had this feeling like he was trying to be nice to him. To be friends. Giving him offhanded advice, followed up by a jab, as if to cover it up. He liked the way Billy cared, even if he didn’t show it. He cared for his sister, Steve knew. He just…expressed things different. Steve’d noticed that a while back. Sometimes Steve couldn't decide if he wanted to punch him or kiss him.

But he didn’t wanna mislead Billy either, and say, yeah man, I’m totally gay – I’m gonna date guys forever. Because that didn’t feel quite true, either. Maybe it was, but he couldn’t say for sure. He didn’t think there was such a thing as liking both. Was there? He’d never heard of it. Unless he was some kind of freak of nature.

Steve bit his lip, and started – “Well, I…well. I usually. Date girls. I…loved Nancy. So I – “ Steve shifted on the carpet, uncomfortable. He had an overwhelming urge to put on his jeans. He felt too exposed. What if Billy got mad at him? If he said he didn’t only like guys? 

***

Billy felt his mouth press into a thin line, though he made sure he didn’t look angry. He wasn’t, not really. His stomach had dropped a bit, kind of like being on the West Rollercoaster on the pier, but he wasn’t mad. It felt more like business as usual, a bit of sting with whatever good feelings came his way. Kind of comforting, in some fucked up way. 

“Okay,” he said, a smile on his face that he’d dubbed The Midwest Bumpkin, false and uncomfortable but polite. “As long as you’re not hurling insults or itching for a fight it’s fine. Really, I get it.”

He did get it, saw it enough on the other side of a bed, or exiting a bathroom stall, sometimes a car. He’d caught the glint of a wedding ring on a few older guys back home and it wasn’t like he expected much. Tonight happening at all was some sort of cosmic event to him and if that’s all it was then—well, alright. 

***

Steve’s eyes went all wide when he saw the look on Billy’s face, that fakey fake smile he’d seen him use before on teachers and on assholes at school. Eyes barred against him now. He held up a hand, leaning forward a little, wincing a little at himself. Both of them sitting here naked as sin. Steve was real good at sticking his foot in it.

“No! No I mean. Sorry. It’s not…like that.” Jesus that had made it sound a little like he was using him or something. “I just…what I mean is, I’m not gonna give you some speech. I – “ Steve took a deep breath. “ Uh, this is a little new. For me. And what I meant is, I loved Nancy before. But I…” 

Steve colored a little in the cheeks, at the tips of his ears. “I like you.” 

He felt like he was 10 years old again, on the playground telling that to Ashley Smithy like it was something to get flustered about. The alcohol definitely gave him more courage to say it this time around though, along with the fact that they’d just gotten off together. That had to mean something? Right?

***

“Oh,” Billy said, face shifting into surprise and something a little pleased. Well, that was fucking unexpected. 

He propped an elbow up onto the coffee table and rested his head in his hand, watching Steve squirm and maybe enjoying it a little too much. It was one thing to get fawned over by Tina or one of her friends. There wasn’t even a modicum of interest there, nothing to be excited about except maybe another step toward lying to everyone better. It was another for Steve Harrington to like him, to tell him so after he’d been between his legs, gripped his ass like it was his dying wish to get off. To nose his way into his neck like his head belonged there. 

He reached out to graze Steve’s cheek with his still tacky fingertips, taking a short detour to pinch at the top of one pink ear. The smile he had on now wasn’t fake, more real than he’d probably showed to anyone in this shit hole. Sitting on Steve’s living room floor with shaky limbs and a head full of cotton, it felt like a safe enough place. 

***

Steve tipped his head into Billy’s hand, into fingertips that stuck to his cheek, and he really didn’t mind, even if it was his own stuff, too. It was both of theirs. He maybe kind of liked that. All kinds of new things tonight. Steve thought maybe it was worth it for the smile on Billy’s face, and he turned slightly to kiss at the palm of Billy’s hand. Billy’d said ‘oh’ and Steve wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, if it was good, or bad, but he figured good (or maybe just okay?) the way Billy was smiling. But Steve felt kind of embarrassed or whatever and he needed to go away for a second.

Steve swallowed, throat clicking, and stood up, trying to wipe the blush off of his face as he started towards the kitchen. “Gatorade and Saltines!” He announced and disappeared into the kitchen, padding around the tiles in the nude. He grabbed two bottles out of the fridge, and the tin of Saltines from the pantry. When he got back into the living room, he went still, blinking, brow furrowing, a saltine already in his mouth. Gatorades tucked under one arm.

“Holy shit what happened?” Steve asked around the saltine, bracing it between his front teeth. Billy’s back was facing him. Steve – Steve didn’t do that, right? That couldn’t just be from…rug-burn? Right? Did Steve do that?!

***

The amused look didn’t fade once Steve got up, only got worse really. He was a fucking dork, but one that liked Billy. One that kissed his gross palm. One that tried not to untangle his curls. One that blushed and seemed like he bled affection, something Billy would gladly and greedily take. 

That feeling didn’t quite last. 

He stiffened before forcing himself to relax, exhaling slowly as he looked over his shoulder at Steve. He shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, though inside he was scrambling backwards, trying not to let the nice moment go to waste. 

“Came with the shiner,” he said, gesturing to his face before reaching out for one of the bottles under Steve’s arm, body twisting to try and get Steve’s eyes off of it. He was a lot of things but he tried not to be a liar. At least it was technically true. “Not as bad as it looks. Here, gimme one of those.”

***

Steve bit his lip, looking down at Billy with concerned brown eyes, and he took the cracker out of his mouth, studying the bruise of that blue eye, then tried to dip around Billy to get a better look.

“That’s why you weren’t at school, too? I mean, I thought you got in a fight, but – did you get hit by a car or something?” He asked, incredulous. 

Shit, had he known, he wouldn’t have been literally shoving Billy against the floor on his back – damn.  
He got around to the back of him, still holding the gatorade and saltine tin with one arm. He let out a sound, a breath through his teeth, as he looked at the marks. He reached out to briefly touch, but it was a soft, brief thing, against one of Billy’s shoulder blades. He also saw that there was, actually, rug-burn too. He winced again. 

“Are you okay? I can get you some ice? I mean it does. Look pretty bad.” 

***

“Something like that,” Billy said with a shrug, going still under Steve’s gaze with his chin on his shoulder. Watching himself be watched. 

The touch was a bit of a surprise, gentle and careful. Definitely in opposition with how he’d got his back fucked up in the first place. The golden rules in the Hargrove house were no hospitals and no snitching though, so he shook the hand off and turned around. He finally snatched one of the bottles from Steve and practically drained it in one go, a whole lot more sober than before for several reasons. 

“Nah, it’s okay. Already iced it a few days ago, it’ll fade,” he said, stupidly looking over his shoulder again before making grabby hands for the saltines. “Come on, hand it over. I’ll be alright, pinky swear.”

***

“Oh uh, oh sorry. Yeah, right.” He handed the tin over and the gatorade, reminded that he still had the saltine in his hand and he nibbled on the corner of it, brow still furrowed in thought. “If you’re sure.”

Steve had to fight the urge to actually lift up his hand, pinky out – yeah he definitely needed to stop hanging out with the kids so much. They took that shit seriously, but he figured Billy wasn’t actually offering a pinky swear. But Steve couldn’t help but worry – it was in his nature. 

He finally stuffed the whole thing in his mouth so he’d just shut up because Billy clearly didn’t wanna talk about this. It was too dry and it crumbled on his tongue, sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

He ducked into the small guest bathroom a few feet away, and grabbed a washcloth. He ran it under the sink. He glanced at himself in the mirror, still feeling tipsy, but more alert than before. Looking at his reflection, he only saw an idiot – had he just – confessed to Billy Hargrove? Not exactly what he’d expected tonight. And Billy said oh. Oh. Steve rolled his eyes at himself, mouthing ‘oh my god you suck.’ 

Then came back out with the washcloth. He felt a little weird now. Wasn’t sure why. He’d probably made it totally weird. He walked towards Billy again, grabbing another saltine or three out of the tin to occupy himself, mouth full so he didn’t dig his own grave further - and reached out to take Billy’s free hand, the kinda gross one - and swiped the warm washcloth over the spread of his palm, the pads of his fingertips, the scrape of his knuckles. Cleaning away the dried leftovers. He kept his eyes on Billy’s hand, not looking up, still chewing. 

***

Billy looked up at Steve from where he was kneeling, sitting back on his heels and trying to keep his hand loose in Steve’s grip. It seemed like Steve was taking a little longer than he needed to, though he didn’t mind. There was still come on his stomach and he could see a streak or two on Steve’s, getting a good eyeful of pale, freckled skin. He licked his lips unconsciously, pulling the hand cleaning his until he was a little closer. 

He leaned forward on his knees and slid his free hand up Steve’s leg, fingers gently carding through the dark hair on his thigh until his settled on Steve’s hip. His tongue darted out next, a long, hot stripe to lick up some of the come smeared over Steve’s abdomen. Didn’t really matter if he was tasting himself or Steve, just that it tasted good. Better than good and hopefully worked enough to completely change the subject. 

***

Steve took a small sip of his gatorade to rinse the crackers taste out of it. He didn’t even know if Billy had eaten any. He was sort of admiring Billy’s hand as he wiped the sticky layer away – he’d always kind of noticed them. They were broad and rough, and he liked the calluses on his palms and – Steve looked up as those fingers slid away from his. 

A breath darted in his mouth as his stomach tensed, a hot, wet tongue sliding across his abs as Billy petted a hand along Steve’s thigh. Steve was still a little tense as Billy lapped up the slow-drying come on his stomach. He let that breath out in a low sigh, head tilting back on his neck as he eased down on his knees - slumping back onto his heels. 

The damp, soiled washcloth dropped to the carpet in a heap as Steve leaned back, giving Billy better access to his stomach. Watching him through half lidded eyes. He braced one hand on the rug behind him, the other lifting to sweep a curl out of Billy’s face. 

***

“Want you,” Billy spoke against Steve’s skin, stopping at a hip bone to bite at it for a moment. “To fuck my mouth. Then I want you to fuck my ass, you got a nice, big bed for it?”

He looked up then, blinking slow as he moved his mouth further down, purposefully moving past Steve’s cock to pay attention to his thigh instead. Not a bad view at all, getting to see what sort of expression he could pull out of Steve by batting his eyelashes like the demure little thing he absolutely wasn’t. 

He was already picturing what Harrington’s bedroom looked like but he wanted to spend a little more time where he was, their clothes piled around them and his own stomach still tacky with come. Steve’s cock was hard, insistent in the corner of his eye and he didn’t think he could wait for an answer, even if he figured what it would be. He licked slowly up the underside of it, wondered if he’d be able to get all of it down and wasn’t surprised at how exciting the challenge seemed. 

***

Steve got hard so fast with Billy’s mouth hot on the skin of his stomach, tantalizingly close to his cock – close enough to make Steve want to squirm. As he lowered himself farther, farther, so close , Steve’s dick pulsed in interest – but Billy sidelined it to pay attention to his thigh, which somehow seemed to draw all of Steve’s blood down south. He swallowed a sound in the back of his throat as his knees automatically spread farther out on the carpet, still leaned back against his heels. Like an invitation.

“Fuck yeah, yeah okay.” Steve agreed, nodding, bobbing his head as an automatic response. “Upstairs.” 

But then Billy got his mouth on Steve, going almost painfully slow up the underside, along the line of the vein there. Steve’s eyes rolled back before his eyelids slipped closed, lashes flickering with sensation as his hips jumped on instinct. 

***

Steve’s reaction was enough of a go ahead for him, like something familiar slotting back into place. He moved like a starving man set in front of a meal, holding Steve’s cock still by the base as he worked his mouth down. Once the head hit the back of his throat his stomach tensed but that was familiar too, nice and easy to work through, even enjoy. 

His eyes were already watering but he could still see Steve when he looked up again. He looked like he was seeing god or something and it made Billy’s nerve sing, that exhilarating feeling that came with knowing he was good at something. His hands slid up the sides of Steve’s legs before he found Steve’s hands, pulling them to rest on either side of his head, pressing insistently as his mouth moved. 

He really hoped Steve got the hint, if for no other reason than keeping him from pausing this. Like you too, a bizarre little thought, one he figured Steve could surmise from this. 

***

With him bent back the way he was, there was no way this was gonna work. But it felt so good Steve didn’t want to pull away either. Especially when his head hit the back of Billy’s throat, it was like fire filled Steve’s veins and all he wanted to do was just what Billy asked of him – without words. To fuck up into his mouth. But his legs already hurt sitting on his heels like this. 

So instead, he gently tugged Billy off of him by the hands on the side of his head - fingers twining up in the strands as he got up onto his toes and edged backwards, leading Billy along with him. When his back hit the edge of the couch, Steve still on his toes, one elbow went over the cushion. Perfect for leverage, he guessed, and easier on both of them. 

He was watching Billy with brown eyes that sparked like thunder, dark with lust, biting his lower lip as he tipped his head back. If Billy wanted to grab onto his thighs, he could. Steve pulled Billy back down then, guiding him with his hand – with that perfect, pink mouth going back over his dick. 

And it was such a fucking sight that Steve couldn’t help a moan that scrambled out of his chest, a desperate sound. He rocked his hips back up then, half supported by the couch, half up on his toes, thick thighs encompassing Billy on either side. Steve’s head knocked back with the force of sensation, but not enough to take his eyes off of Billy and those blue, electric eyes. 

***

Billy’s eyes went heavy the second that Steve’s hands eased his head down, his own running down Steve’s legs to settle in his lap. Sex—with men, anyway, was just about the only time that it felt good to hold still, hand something over to someone else for a minute. The look on his face was almost sleepy, nice and loose and hopefully enough to distract from the black eye Steve was probably looking at. 

He groaned around Steve’s cock and pressed forward until there was nowhere else to go, his throat working as he convinced his stomach not to jump. He could feel spit running out of the corner of his mouth, filthy and hot and perfect. Steve was fucking big, not that he didn’t know that. He’d gotten a good look more than once and had just gotten to feel it against his own but this?

Getting Steve Harrington to fuck his face was right up there near the top of his Steve Harrington Fantasy list. The one he absolute did not have. 

***

Steve’d had blow jobs from girls before. Usually they didn’t seem to particular love it, or like it even. Seemed a bit like more of a chore, and their mouths were so soft. But this was a different ballgame entirely. Billy had a strong fucking mouth, a sharp jaw to draw Steve in with, and a very, very talented tongue that Steve got to see mocking him on an almost daily basis. Dancing around like it had a job to do. Maybe this was it. And Billy? Billy seemed to like it, Steve thought. Hoped.

Steve gasped as tension zinged through his legs, making him almost jump on his toes as he let himself rut up into Billy’s mouth, his quivering hips taking on a mind of their own. Thighs shaking. Even trying to make himself let go though, was difficult – he was still too mindful of not going too rough, not pressing too deep, not hurting him or choking him. Those were things that were too ingrained in him, even when fucking the guy’s damn mouth. Also, he’d never really been given…control, when he was being blown. He’d never been the one to have the reigns in that situation, and it was new, and it was almost alien to be taking lead. But it felt so good, and letting his hips do what they wanted was strangely. Liberating. Freeing.

It took a few seconds for him to get his bearings, to actually take – pushing up into Billy’s mouth. The wet, slick sounds that came from Billy’s lips from the suction were enough to make him come on the spot really – it was so dirty and so good and it was all for Steve. His mouth was so tight, wet and burning and Steve was almost mindless with the sensation. Soon his hips really did take control over, as his head flopped back against the cushion, broken, sweet sounds spilling out of his mouth with Billy’s name in between. 

***

Billy wanted to close his eyes, really he did. They stung from looking up so long and had welled up enough that it was finally getting hard to see. He couldn’t though, not even when Steve’s head dropped backward, almost out of sight. That alone was enough to keep him looking, just barely able to see the borderline miserable look of arousal, the way Steve’s lips wrapped around his name. 

His stomach lurched and he gagged but made himself hum through it, fingers flexing against the tops of his thighs but not moving to hold Steve still. That was just about the last thing he wanted to do even if breathing was getting increasingly difficult. His own erection hung hard and heavy between his legs, his hips making aborted movements that didn’t give him any relief. That was fine, could just come later. That reminded him. He let Steve thrust into his mouth another minute before regretfully setting a hand on his thigh to pull off, gasping for air and blinking away tears. 

“Bedroom?” he asked, voice hoarse and caught in the middle of a hard swallow. “Now?”

***

When Billy pulled off of him, Steve blinked blearily at the ceiling – he hadn’t realized when he’d closed his eyes, so fucking gone on the feeling of Billy’s mouth on him. The vibrations of his throat humming. 

He tipped his head up, breathing like he’d just won a marathon, nodding – enthusiastically so. “Bedroom.” Steve straightened himself out from his bizarre position, rock solid erection bobbing against his stomach, red at the tip from all of Billy’s attention. 

Steve leaned in, catching at the way Billy gasped for air, the way tears sparkled at the corners of his eyes. Steve was breathing hard too as he licked his own palm, then closed in to press his mouth against Billy’s. His tongue swiped over the space between his upper and lower lip, hand dropping down – both of them on their knees now – to wrap a spit-slick hand around Billy’s neglected cock. 

Long fingers that shook just a little with aftershocks of pleasure slid all the way from the base of Billy’s shaft to the head, twisting there with the thumb at the slit. His other hand snaked out to slither up Billy’s abs, each a bump beneath his palm until he was sliding a thumb over a prominent nipple, pinching a bit in coordination with his other hand.

***

Billy parted his lips easily, eyes finally falling shut and a shiver running down his spine. His hands stayed limp at his sides for the moment, the feeling too good to not zero in on. He twitched at the hand on his chest, the corner of his mouth ticking up before his mouth dropped open again. It was more like just the suggestion of a kiss, just soft gasps and opening his mouth wider whenever he felt Steve’s tongue. 

One hand stayed relaxed and open at his side, the other slipping up Steve’s front until it settled on the side of his neck. His grip was feather light then, just enough to keep their mouths close, tell him not to stop. It would have to eventually, if they were going to get upstairs at all, but detours seemed to pop up all over the place with Steve. Not that he minded, not even if it made something nervous twist in his gut. 

“Up—“ he whispered, though he made no moves at all. “Upstairs. Steve.”

***

Steve liked touching Billy. Liked those soft little gasps as he rotated his hand around Billy’s cock, drawing over the velvet soft skin, hard as stone beneath his fingers. And he liked touching at his chest, thumb rubbing over a nipple gone stiff in the direct air – things he’d thought about in the showers, and he could finally just – touch. When Billy got his hand on Steve’s neck, and their mouths were ghosting together now, Steve idly licking over Billy’s lower lip like a reminder he could – he nodded, sort of stupidly. Yeah, yeah, upstairs. He could get upstairs. Right? 

“…Okay. Okay yeah.” Steve said as he finally got himself to release Billy. To stagger up to his feet, hands outstretched to help Billy up. He swallowed once, throat dry as shit as he glanced up at the upstairs landing where the wooden banister sectioned it off so people wouldn’t fall. But he didn’t voice his concerns. 

“C’mon…I’ll show you my room.” He said, starting to lead Billy by the hand. Looking back at him with bedroom eyes, hanging heavy and stiff between his legs.

***

Billy trailed close behind, though his eyes moved elsewhere. Once Steve was fixated on getting them up the stairs his gaze moved over his shoulder, watching their clothes get further away, wondering if it was going to be a nice memory he’d get to save later. 

There were more pictures in the hallway, these a little older. They were mostly Steve; some baseball pictures, him at some Sadie Hawkins dance wearing electric blue to match the girl’s dress next to him. His stomach sunk a bit at the idea but he tried to let it go, watched Steve walk, all long limbs, instead of latching onto the thought in his head. 

“This wallpaper is a lot more garish than I was expecting,” he said lightly, biting the inside of his cheek to hide a grin. It wasn’t any use, really. “Your ma pick out the swatch that said ‘yuppie hell’ on it?”

***

“Oh no, yuppie hell was flavor of the month six months ago.” Steve said with a roll of his eyes and a smart mouth with a smile on it. He threw a few shirts in the hamper as he made his way towards the king sized bed, where the window over the pool had the slats shut tight. At least he’d had the sense to make his bed this morning. 

“This is more of a Eu De Plaid Vomit. I think it has a nice ring to it.” He grinned over at Billy. “It comes with matching everything, see?” 

Steve stood next to his desk, feeling a little off standing there naked, sporting a stiffie – biting his lip a little as he glanced at the bed. It was weird, and it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. The last time he’d stood with somebody else, in almost this EXACT same position, was with Nancy – a towel draped around his neck. That’d been the first time he’d done it with Nance in his bed. And Billy wanted that too. Steve blinked a few times, rapidly, trying to focus. He cocked his hands on his hips like a little dork, shifting on his feet, staring at the bed like it had all of the answers written there on the duvet. 

“Uh.” He said very articulately. 

Again. He didn’t know any gay guys. Billy’s said he wanted – wanted Steve to fuck him. Steve raised a hand to his lip, about to chew on his thumbnail, dropped it back to his hip – he’d broken that habit years ago. Don’t start that again. Did guys just…stick it…in there? How? Didn’t it hurt? He vaguely sensed he was freezing up and maybe making his crazy eyes. He couldn’t help it.

***

Billy’s mouth pressed into a tight lipped smile but it wasn’t fake, no, this one was holding back a laugh. The look on Steve’s face made his eyes light up, watching him squirm for maybe a few seconds too long before he took some mercy on him. 

“Oh for fuck’s—come here,” he said with a sigh, pulling Steve out of his apparent indecision and closer to the bed, urging him to lay on his back. “It’s not that complicated Steve, don’t work yourself into a tizzy.”

He climbed up after him until he was straddling his waist, suspicions confirmed when he felt the mattress sort of mold itself to his body. It would be a far cry from the last time he could remember, flashing his pearly whites at a security guard and slipping into The Nail like he’d done a million times before. That time had been fueled by something more self deprecating than just seeking out pleasure and he could still remember little bits; his hair purposefully snagged in someone’s fingers, cold tile on his cheek and an ass that stung for a day or two after. Hadn’t made for a comfortable drive to Hawkins. 

Steve looked so nervous he was pretty sure none of that was going to happen, and it was...sweet, kind of. 

“Not as much prep as you think, just tell me you’ve got lube and condoms in arm’s reach,” he said, running the tip of his nose over the long line of Steve’s, that feline smile rearing up again. “Hear my ass is outta this world, apparently.”

***

Steve blinked up at him owlishly, flat on his back in his own bed, cock still stiff against his stomach as he stared up at Billy. Brown locks spread out over a crisp white pillowcase, shivering a bit when Billy ran his nose along his. It felt nice. Well, yeah, he guessed he was a typical dude – so he had both of those things. Steve twisted his spine, without disrupting Billy straddling him too much, to dig in his nightstand drawer. He tugged out a bottle of lube he kept hidden from when his mom organized his room, and a rubber in a foil pack. He’d only heard of this kind of stuff - guys ‘packing’ each other– generally in deprecating ways – and it’s not like it was ever actually talked about in detail. 

He had to remind himself that, as 2 +2 = 4, Billy kept saying more things that just made this seem like he’d done this enough times to know it like the back of his hand. It was only Steve that was way out of depth. Steve popped the wrapper on the condom to pull out the rubber, and his hands hadn’t shaken like this since he first time he put on a rubber before he did it with Samantha in freshman year – when he totally wasn’t ready for it, by the way, but she sure as hell was – and he’d come in like five seconds, she’d screamed at him, and then he’d cried about it in the shower that night. 

Yikes why was he thinking about that? He’d been with plenty of girls since then. Nancy’d listed them off to him once like notches in his belt. He was anxious, yeah. But like – excited nervous? He didn’t think Billy was gonna scream at him. Maybe.

“Is that so?” Steve smiled up at him, nervous yammering. “I guess I’ve had some experience with the otherworldly, so. Guess it’ll be uh, good and I won’t, you know. Hurt you? I guess maybe I’ve been told I’m big or whatever and...” God shut up, shut up. Jesus, shut up. Steve snapped his mouth shut.

His hands settled loosely over Billy’s hips where he straddled him, his cock bright green with the color of the latex spread over it like a second skin. 

***

“You won’t—I mean, Jesus, you’re fucking huge, but,” Billy said, setting a hand over one of the hands on his hips, pressing down insistently. “You don’t need to worry about that, trust me.”

What he wasn’t saying—and hoped Steve didn’t pick up on—was that it definitely wasn’t sunshine and fucking rainbows, being with men. Not the ones he’d run across anyway, some of them selfish and downright assholes. It hadn’t mattered to Billy when he started doing it because he never had much regard for himself and it didn’t matter now. He could pretty much guarantee even if Steve decided to be a dick he wouldn’t come anywhere close. 

“Just give me a second, yeah?” he said against Steve’s ear, taking the lube off the mattress to coat his fingers. 

When he reached back and slipped his index finger inside of himself it pulled a sigh out of him, his eyes closing while he convinced his body to relax. One became two pretty quickly, impatience winning out, fingers curling and searching. He could hear his breath start to pick up again, his free hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest, head tilting back when arousal pressed hard and low in his gut. 

***

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Steve breathed. 

He didn’t know what to expect. Maybe he wasn’t expecting this. He’d thought guys just – just stuck it in there, he guessed. 

He knew with some girls they had to be slowly stretched open, it took time to get them relaxed and ready. Had to ease your way in. He guessed this wasn’t all that different. Steve watched at first with fascination, his mouth hanging open slightly, fingers tightening at Billy’s hips. 

But what started out as surprise, morphed to arousal. Watching Billy loosening himself literally on top of Steve – all glistening sweat and the looks on his face, the – the sound of the lube and skin, and…Steve’s cock, which had been starting to soften with nerves, just a little, stirred right back to full mast. Leaking against his stomach with interest. 

Steve’s own breathing picked up, hands twitching on Billy’s hips as his ass stirred on the duvet. He soon lifted a hand to pluck Billy’s hand from his chest – helping to support him at the hip with his other hand for balance – and pulled Billy’s hand to his mouth. He slipped one digit into his mouth, sucking over the pad of Billy’s finger, then all the way up to the knuckle, and passed. Grazing teeth over his fingertips as he came off, then slipped the middle finger in to join the first. Keeping both of Billy’s hands busy. Enraptured with the line of Billy’s throat as he tossed his head back. 

***

Billy’s head dropped forward when his hand was moved, eyes fixed on the way his fingers looked sliding into Steve’s mouth. The slick heat around them was distracting enough to pull him away from his task, hypnotized by the way sucked on them, dragged his teeth across them. The impatience was worse now and impossible to ignore, told him it would be fine, worth it. 

He slipped his fingers out of his ass and shifted his hips, lifting off to get Steve’s cock behind him. Maybe later he’d give him shit for the technicolor condom. Maybe he’d barely remember that part, he hoped it would be that fucking good, had thought about it enough. 

“Now,” he said, not a question, though he thought Steve would have no issues shoving him off in case he changed his mind. “Hold still, just for a second.”

He reached back again, this time to hold Steve’s cock in place, mournfully pulling his fingers out of Steve’s mouth with a soft stroke to his lip in apology. He used them to spread himself open just enough, letting go to dig his fingers into Steve’s chest again as he slowly lowered himself, his other hand settling on Steve’s thigh to keep him from bucking up. It stung but in the way he liked, his breath coming out in hard pants and his eyes screwed shut. 

***

For a second, before Billy lowered himself down – Steve felt a little overwhelmed. Like there were too many things happening all at once, and there were too many things to look at – Billy face, his hands, the dick bobbing almost painfully before him, Billy lowering himself down – a hand on Steve’s chest. 

But the second Steve actually popped past Billy’s entrance – Steve hadn’t known what it would be like, but it was – familiar territory. Tighter, hotter, even. Slicker with the lube. But instinct told him he knew this and he had to stop the urge to buck his hips upwards – biting at his lip as he let out a sharp breath through his nose. Oh shit, it felt so good. It felt even better than Billy’s mouth if that was possible. 

He watched through half cracked eyes as Billy lowered himself down on top of Steve – slowly, carefully – and Steve was playing things by ear and letting Billy lead. His eyes were screwed shut like it might hurt. Steve stroked a broad hand over Billy’s thigh, covered in golden peach fuzz the closer he got to his hip bone, fingers exploring his skin. Trying to be soothing. as he let out a low groan at the feeling of Billy all around his cock. He was almost buried to the hilt, teeth clenched as he tried to breathe through the desire, all tight, wet heat and not let himself rut up. 

“J-Jesus,” Steve breathed, a broken sound. “Billy.” But only the second name sounded like a prayer.

***

Billy sighed at the hand roaming up his thigh and it mostly worked, distracting enough for him to relax while barely noticing. His name coming out of Steve’s mouth did the rest, had him sinking down until Steve bottomed out inside of him. He took a second to brace himself against Steve’s chest and let out a shaky breath, then opened his eyes. 

“Move, you-you can move,” he said, his voice sounding jittery in his ears. 

He rolled his hips in encouragement, a small sound of discomfort there and gone in a flash, replaced by a feeling like being dipped in honey. Everything was slow, breaths coming easier now that his body knew what was happening, what was hopefully going to happen. He rolled down again and started a slow rhythm, sighing like he was taking his first breath of fresh air. 

***

Steve’s other hand joined it’s mate on Billy’s opposite hip, getting a grip. He stared up at Billy, and waited – waited – gave him a moment, but reveled in the feeling of being completely and totally buried in him. And really all he needed was Billy’s go-ahead. But he still started out slowly, despite that. Steve slowly raised his hips to meet roll for roll, matching Billy’s set pace. Pressing into him, easing back, and pressing in again. The way Billy sighed was encouragement. Steve got a better hold on his hips and rocked into him a little more, a little harder. Gauging Billy’s reactions, but also not entirely able to keep his own urges in check. 

He’d never quite understood why guys did this. Guess he did now. He slicked in and out of Billy with the ease of the lube, all pressure and muscle and he took it easy – didn’t figure they were in much of a rush. And it felt so good.

“Billy, you feel...you feel so good. God you’re gorgeous.” Steve murmured in awe, staring at Billy above him, fucking riding him like a goddamn pony, all golden skin and Romanesque muscle. Like he had a living breathing work of art atop him, straddling him. 

***

Billy focused on Steve’s face after the word gorgeous, a smile breaking out across his face that was about as real as he thought he’d ever get. He was a fucking glutton for praise, a fact that had probably never escaped anyone’s notice after being around him for five minutes, but having it here was his fucking bread and butter. He took a hand off of Steve’s chest to push his curls to the side and regarded Steve, eyes heavy with arousal. 

Steve had always looked more like a swimmer to him; broad chest and shoulders tapering to a slimmer waist. Long arms and legs, those fucking hands, the ones gripping his hips like a lifeline. He wanted to say not bad yourself or have you even seen yourself but the words got choked off by a particularly good thrust. 

“Th-ere, fuck, right there,” he said frantically, just a rush of breath as he thrusts got greedier, sharper. 

***

Steve’s eyes went wide at the sudden reaction as what he had thought would be a cute remark came out as something very different, a hot desperation to Billy’s words. Steve tried to take note of what spot he was hitting – he guessed he’d thought that it would be…okay, for the other guy. Maybe not great, but okay. The guy taking it. But he hadn’t expected it to feel…good. For Billy, too.

But he was thrusting down on top of Steve like he was desperate for it, gagging for it, and Steve surged upwards in response – seeking out that spot he’d hit, holding Billy’s hips just right so he could get the right angle. 

“Th-there? That the spot?” Steve gasped, pounding up into Billy from below. Blunt nails catching a bit at Billy’s skin where he held onto him like he’d drift away if Steve let go. Meeting Billy thrust for thrust, damp skin on skin.

***

“Uh huh,” Billy whined, could practically see the shutters go down, whatever guard he had left up blown to fucking nothing by pleasure. 

He was grateful for Steve’s big, empty house then, the sounds coming out of him only getting louder. He wondered how many other people—girls had moaned in here, got to have this, got to hear their whines bounce off of Steve’s hideous walls. Knew without a fucking doubt they didn’t appreciate it half as much as he did, fucking himself on Steve’s cock like he needed it to breathe. 

He kept himself open and pliant in every way he could, the pleasure no good if he was trying to save face. Plus, Steve liked him so that meant—it was fine, right? Must’ve been fine, would be too hard to stop it at this point. He slipped his hand from his hair to grab one of Steve’s hands and tangle it up in his curls, remembered how good it had felt to have him tug on them. More careful than most people, but maybe if he asked real nice…

“Pull it, please,” he said, voice saccharine sweet and eyes closed, not screwed up in discomfort but lazily shut, like he was floating. Could’ve been. 

***

The way Billy bounced on Steve’s cock was fucking hypnotizing. He couldn’t even believe it, really. It kind of felt surreal. This entire night was surreal. Like it wasn’t happening. But it was and it was amazing. Steve was moaning and high off of Billy’s whimpers, and the way he was so open for Steve, so good for Steve, and it was in that second that Steve knew what he wanted. 

He wanted to break Billy open beneath him, to break him open and piece him back together in all the right ways. When he Billy got his hand and asked him to ‘pull it, please,’ so sweet, Steve knew it was what he wanted. Steve didn’t entirely know what he was doing, but he was figuring it out pretty fast. He leaned up as Billy attached his hand to his hair. Then he was letting go of his hip to bring a hand round to Billy’s back, and he was sweeping them to the side – not actually removing himself from inside Billy. He’d reversed their position, flipping Billy onto his back – Steve above, Billy below. It was too difficult to touch Billy from that position. And Steve wanted to touch him. 

“You look good riding my cock, but I wanna – wanna touch you, babe.” Steve breathed out hard through his nose, his hand wrapped up in Billy’s curls. And he was pulling. Pulling just enough to make it smart, but not to hurt. Pressing a kiss against Billy’s lips, and using his free hand to tangle his fingers with Billy’s against the mattress.

***

Billy hissed at the pull and smiled again, feeling drunk even if he was sure most of the booze had worn off by now. Babe worked even better than gorgeous, his head lolling on his neck like it was going to fall right off. For all he knew it might’ve. 

“Uh huh,” he slurred, wondered distantly if Steve would realize it was the one time he didn’t feel like running his mouth. The joke made him exhale a soft laugh, one that got lost in another moan, stopped when Steve’s hand held onto his. 

It was such a fucking soft gesture, soft like his hand had been across his shoulder downstairs, like the kiss to his neck before. The sting in his scalp made it easier to handle, the gesture probably offhanded to Steve but heavier than a fucking anvil to him. He looked up at Steve with big, glassy eyes, pawing at his back lazily, wondering if Steve might remember this time over whatever ones he’d had here before. 

***

Steve was smiling down at Billy, the kind that softened his eyes and crinkled the corners, curls furling down over his forehead almost boyishly. He enjoyed the way their hands fit together, fingers interlocked. He tightened his hand, swallowing Billy’s moan with an attentive tongue and wandering lips. He finished tugging, before smoothing his fingers through the curls instead – rocking into Billy more slowly this time, staring down into Billy’s big, almost glassy looking eyes – wondering if he was still pretty drunk, though most of the alcohol felt burned out of Steve’s system. 

He liked this position the best. Where he could actually look down at Billy, close enough to kiss, in a position to hold his hand, and he especially liked when Billy got his free hand to his back, raking blunt nails there against his skin. Steve pressed further, harder into Billy where his legs were spread over the mattress, effectively fucking him down into it. 

Licking at his jaw, down his neck, nipping at his collarbone - he got his free hand between them to squeeze around Billy’s cock – trapped between their bellies, getting warm fingers around it. Stroking once, twice. Steve was feeling high off of the sound of their wet skin pounding together as he tried to angle himself again for that spot Billy liked, the one that made him shake, and the creak of the mattress beneath their weight. Picking up his pace.

***

Billy only got a glimpse of Steve’s face and his smile before it moved out of sight, lips and teeth moving over his collarbone in a way that stung nicely. Then Steve’s hand was on his cock, borderline sore between them from going untouched for so long. He wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist in thanks, fingers flexing where they were intertwined with his, some sort of signal. 

He opened his mouth to say like that but it seemed like Steve was pulverizing his brain with every little gesture, every rough thrust. A knee slid up Steve’s side and changed the angle enough for him to press his head back into the mattress, gasping for air and crying out, the sound echoing back in his ears. He dug his fingers in harder and tried to say there and it mostly came out, to his credit. 

“Th-please,” is what he settled for, too hard to get anything else out. Not with lightning streaking up his spine or the weight of a body pressing him down, with fingers still holding his almost sweetly. 

***

Billy didn’t even have to tell it to him, there was no need for a ‘there’ or even ‘please’ because he could tell when he hit it. Billy’s entire body went so tense, all lit up, and Steve drove into the spot, again and again. He’d draw himself out, almost to the point of not being inside of Billy anymore, before he would thrust right back in to the sweet-spot.  
He didn’t even question it really, took it at face value.

“Anything, anything, baby,” was Steve’s only reply, his brain high on nerve endings alight with bliss. 

He thrust harder, faster, tightening his fingers within Billy’s, liking the way Billy’s flexed against his own. When Billy got his leg up against Steve’s side, knee knocking against Steve’s ribs, he tugged Billy a few more sweet times, twisting his wrist in time with his thrusts, before he reached up to brace into the meat of Billy’s thigh. Pushing gently to spread him open just a little more, letting Steve drive in a little further into that one spot. 

Steve was about to lose it. He was so close, he was panting with it, his fingers locked together with Billy’s, palms slippery with sweat. He grunted with effort, moaning with the pleasure of it. It felt like his skin was lit up with stars, bones molten lava, and he was chasing his orgasm, and trying to bring Billy to one – though he didn’t know if he could like this. 

***

The endearment made Billy’s eyes more than just glassy so he shut them, figured maybe it was just him being drunk. He’d heard it plenty of times before out of different people’s mouths but this felt—fond, maybe. Hopefully, he thought, somewhere way way back. 

His hand left Steve’s back to sneak between them and finish where Steve started, his orgasm coiled up and ready to level him. It only took another handful of thrusts and a few more seconds of hearing Steve grunting above him to make him come, flinching at the feeling of his stomach and chest suddenly slick. He seized up for one long moment before it was like someone had cut his strings, his body going limp in Steve’s hold, the moans drawing out long after his cock lay spent between them. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, come for me,” he said into Steve’s hair, messy hand winding its way up his back again, pressing the small of it and weakly meeting each thrust. 

***

The words whispered in his ear, and the sensation of feeling Billy quake with an orgasm beneath him did it. Steve let out a choked sound as he clenched his eyes shut, hips stuttering as he filled up the condom within the heat of Billy’s ass. The word ‘Sweetheart’ had rolled so sweetly off of Billy’s tongue. Steve wanted to hear it again and again. Didn’t know Billy could sound like that. It did things to Steve.

Steve dropped down on top of Billy, slowly releasing his thigh – scraping his fingers along it before he curled his hand around Billy’s side, tucking a hand beneath him. He was weak with post-orgasm bliss, blindly kissing at Billy’s chest where he rested. He carefully, slowly pulled out of Billy, wincing at the sensation of the spent condom around his softening cock. But he lay like that for a few more minutes, trying to pace his breathing. 

He liked the feeling of Billy’s hand on his back, pressing there, steadying him. He tilted his head back, bracing his chin against Billy’s chest as he looked up at him. Smiling in this drowsy, sweet, sated kind of way. His hand was still holding Billy’s. His thumb started making small circles against Billy’s wrist. 

“Mmh.” Steve hummed in this satisfied sort of way, both of their bellies sticking together with Billy’s come. 

He pressed another kiss to Billy’s pec, then tilted his head to press his cheek there, a cloud of brunette hair tickling at Billy’s chin. 

“That was…holy shit.” Steve smiled, laughing a little with delight and that post orgasm high. 

***

Billy hummed back easily, arms feeling heavy as he wound them around Steve’s back, a hand settling in his hair and smoothing it slowly. His legs fell back open, thighs and hands shaking and his body sore in a way only on par with pushing himself too hard at practice. Only with this he got Steve on top of him, more of those soft kisses against his skin, ones he didn’t want to move away from this time. 

“See, easy peasy,” he slurred, smiling wide enough to make his eyes crinkle in the corners, sighing heavily. 

He turned his head, eyes landing on the clock. Fuck. Six. He needed to leave, like, a long fucking time ago. It was so comfortable to lay like this, though. Maybe a little longer, even if his eyes did linger on the time. 

***

Steve huffed out a little sigh through his nose, content and buried his face into Billy’s chest, both arms wrapped around his middle. 

“Yeah, ‘s good.” Steve mumbled into that smooth, golden skin. “Easy peasy.” 

Jesus, now that they were finished, Steve was totally bushed. He had no idea what time it was. He didn’t even want to raise his eyes to look at the red numbers on the digital alarm by his bed. Steve usually fell asleep after a good night of sex. He’d been told it was annoying. But he’d at least learned to never leave a used rubber on before he fell asleep – that got gross. He didn’t move, though – he just reached down to snap it off with an uncomfortable sound, then threw it somewhere in the direction of the waste bin – too tired to tie it off properly. That required both hands, and one was still securely tucked beneath Billy. 

Steve sighed something into Billy’s chest, already close to being asleep. He hadn’t realized he was so tired until now that it was smacking him in the face. Must be late, he figured. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. 

After a night of drinking, coming twice, and a lot of emotional highs and lows, Steve drifted to sleep within minutes, lulled by the rise and fall of Billy’s chest beneath his cheek. His own breathing slowed into that of the unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

Billy laid there a lot longer than he should’ve, trying to hold on to the feeling he couldn’t quite get a grasp on. Steve’s body was a dead weight on top of him, the barest hint of a snore against his chest and a hand cradled underneath him. He was exhausted but at least thankful he was young, no hangover on the horizon. Not that it mattered, whatever waited for him at home was worse than any comedown imaginable. 

He slipped out from under Steve without much difficulty, watched as Steve frowned in his sleep, one broad hand sweeping across the space he’d occupied. He slunk downstairs to squeeze back into his clothes, wincing when his jeans dug into some new marks, when his shirt slid over rug burns on his shoulders. The pain was welcome though, just about the only kind. Steve was up there sleeping, had told him he liked him. 

Maybe it would make things easier later. 

Maybe. 

Steve’d woken up alone. Couldn’t say he’d been particularly surprised, but it had been somewhat of a letdown to wake up to empty sheets. He’d also been left with the most bizarre sense that he’d dreamed it. He literally had to check the rubber by the trashcan to make sure it was actually there – that it hadn’t been some kind of really crazy fever dream. But it was really there. And he had dried come on his stomach that, if that night was to be believed, wasn’t his own. 

And he’d woken up buck naked in his own bed, sheets and comforter trashed. He’d twisted around in front of the mirror to double check if the scratches were there – they were. After that, something warm had mellowed in his belly, because it was real. And he’d known Billy had to get home – he’d said it earlier in the night, and by the time he’d left, shit it had to be early. Early enough for the sun to’ve come up, maybe. Hopefully Billy hadn’t gotten caught, but what parents were up that early on a Sunday? None. Not that Steve had much experience with having to worry about that.

Monday morning dawned bright and early and found Steve at school, glancing around in the parking lot when he threw the Beamer into park – he wouldn’t admit to himself he was looking for a particular navy blue muscle car. Okay yeah he was. But. He didn’t see it. The last class of the day, he spaced out through most of English, daydreaming and staring out the window, with memories of the other night flickering through his head – most of which he could remember, though some parts were a little hazy. Smiling kind of like a dope to himself. 

Mr. Whitby had had to ask if he was still with them, snapping Steve out of it and he’d had to read aloud from the passage in The Tell-Tale Heart (fucking embarrassing, stumbling over himself like that) it’d killed his good mood pretty fast. Steve sulked his way out of English Comp, to his locker to put his English textbook away, feeling grumpy at making a total idiot out of himself. He hated when teachers did that. Mr. Whitby was a real asshole sometimes. It’s like he picked on Steve just because he knew he’d fuck it up and stumble over every word like he was in fifth grade, not a senior, and…damn. He frowned into his locker, head down, flicking his ray-bans over his eyes. Rumor had it he hated jocks, some left over thing from when he’d been at school himself, and apparently Steve was classified as that.

He slammed his locker shut and swung his backpack back over his shoulder, just as the last bell of the day rang. He headed out with his hands shoved into the pockets of his Members Only jacket (it was really getting too cold for it, but his heavier jacket was in his car.) The air was chilled with February temperatures, and Steve hunched his shoulders around his ears as he let out a misty breath. The rest of the students were all moving with him in a sea of bodies, either towards the cars in the parking lot, walking home, or taking the bus. 

However, things seemed a little brighter when he spotted a familiar leather jacket and frizzy mullet, at the edge of the school building away from the doors - closer to the sidewalk that ran along the block. Steve raised his head a bit, and altered his direction slightly. Heading towards the spot - it was in the smokers area, where most of the smokers hung out. Which was practically everybody, at some point. Billy looked...grumpy. But when did he not look grumpy? 

***

Billy wished he could say he’d caught up on the sleep happily lost in Steve’s house, that he’d slept off any possibility of a hangover the rest of Sunday. He, of course, hadn’t been that fucking lucky. Neil had been waiting, asleep on the recliner probably. Didn’t really matter where he’d been because he still ended up in Billy’s room as he was lifting himself through the window, pulling him the rest of the way through by his hair. 

He could remember kids whining about their parents reading them the riot act after a fuck up, the bummer of having their car taken away. They didn’t have shit on Neil, a retired military man with a fucking 24/7 drinking habit and a penchant for hating his son. He’d reiterated the latter the rest of the day and made sure Billy didn’t even get a glance at his bed on Sunday, not until late that night. By that point he’d found it impossible to sleep, beratements and slaps to the face running through his head, threatening to sour everything. 

Neil ended up having to go to work today, left Billy to sneak a nap in his Camaro at the quarry during school hours. Most of it was spent staring at the roof of the car, shaking with exhaustion and trying to remember what anything, baby sounded like. 

“Hi,” was all he could think to say when Steve was within speaking distance, the barest movement of his lips, aware of the student body shoving out of the double doors in droves just a stone’s throw away. 

***

Steve walked up to him trying, well, really hard not to look like an overexcited chocolate lab puppy. Instead he tried to be really suave and cool. Like in an ‘I don’t care’ kinda way. Nope. Didn’t care. Not him. Nope. He was totally laid back about this. But this was the first time he’d seen billy since Saturday night (Sunday morning?) and his stomach was doing some crazy, acrobatic flips and he couldn’t tell if it was due to excitement, or because he was about to throw up.

He’d been alternating between the memory of pressing Billy into the sheets, the way Billy said sweetheart, and the way he said ‘oh’ – and now, he was just looking at the way Billy was staring at him, like he’d maybe grown two heads overnight. Steve blinked at him, grabbing into the straps of his backpack like an anchor to keep him in place. The look on Billy’s face made him nervous.

“Hey.” Steve responded with a little nod of his head. He grinned at Billy, a light, easy thing that didn’t quite match what his stomach was doing, and came to lean against the bricks. He slid a pack of smokes out of his pocket. Tapped one out to balance it between his lips. He left his Zippo where it was, arching his eyebrows a Billy. “Got a light?”

***

The smile on Billy’s face was flat and he knew it. He was bone tired, something his mom used to say that he didn’t really understand. Not until she left him with Neil, now he knew the feeling like the back of his hand. It’s not like he wasn’t happy to see Steve, quite the opposite. Thinking about being pressed into his unbelievably soft mattress was about the only thing that kept him sane the whole day. He just knew his face wasn’t saying it. 

He picked his zippo out of his front pocket and held it out to Steve, just barely refraining from cupping their hands together to light his cigarette for him. Instead he made sure they didn’t touch, leaning back against the wall while he watched Steve flick the lighter to life. 

“I miss anything today?” he asked, the sounds of people talking to each other loud enough, deafening enough that he thought it might be alright. 

***

Steve’s shoulders eased a hairsbreadth as Billy joined him against the wall, the lighter warm in his palm from being in that denim pocket. Steve snapped it with his wrist to get the flame up and drew in a long breath to pull life into the cigarette, ember flaring to life. Smoke billowed out around the filter as Steve handed the lighter back, the other hand eased into his pocket. He offered a smoke along with the lighter. 

But the smile on Billy’s face didn’t meet his eyes – which really on any other day wouldn’t have exactly surprised Steve. He didn’t think he’d seen a real smile on Billy’s face until that night. But had he expected things to be a little different today? Maybe. Maybe not. Steve drew the cigarette away from his mouth, frowning a little – a slight line between his brows as he eyed Billy from the corner of his shades. 

“Not really. Was a shitty day.” Tell-Tale Heart kind of shitty, but that was mostly towards the end. “You still…okay?” Steve asked, voice pitching a little lower as he gestured a little with the hand holding the cigarette as his own eye – indicating the bruising. Bruising at Billy’s eye, marking up his back. He wondered if maybe it had been too…much, the other night. Maybe Steve’d made it worse, so Billy’d had to miss yet another day from his mystery injuries. 

He was conflicted if Billy wanted him here or not - or wanted to tell Steve to fuck off, like some bitch that thought that one night of doing stuff changed anything.

***

“Just peachy,” Billy said with a smile, this one like stretching cellophane over his skin, everything a bit too tight, reaching out to accept the offered cigarette. 

He had something in the front pocket of his jacket, had considered leaving it on the pillow for Steve. Instead he’d held onto it the past two days now, folding and unfolding it until the middle of the paper was worried into a crease, staring at it every few hours. It was fucking stupid to have it in the first place but he didn’t want to get rid of it, reached inside to fold and unfold it with the hand not occupied. 

Tommy was waving to him from across the parking lot and it made him take a deep breath in and out of his nose, his jaw going tight. Fucking lemming. 

“Turn a little to the right, Harrington,” he said, eyeing the pocket in the side of Steve’s backpack. 

***

Steve’s stomach dropped a little at that plastic smile. He definitely thought it might be the latter, and Billy definitely didn’t want to talk to him, even if he was playing nice enough to take the cigarette.

He followed Billy’s gaze towards the parking lot, catching sight of Tommy waving like it was life or death if Billy didn’t get over there right that second. 

“Your adoring crowd calls.” Steve sighed, forgetting about the cigarette in his hand. It was burning away to ash. 

He gave Billy a questioning tilt of his head, pushing the sunglasses up into the cloud of his perfectly styled coif. 

“…huh?” Steve asked, not sure what he meant – what like, like his head? Did he have something on his face? He turned a little to the right on cue.

***

Billy stifled a real smile and gave Steve a very masculine, absolutely platonic pat on the solar plexus. While his arm was over Steve’s chest he used the other to slip the note into the pocket he’d been eyeing, moving away just as quickly. Adoring crowd felt more like den of vipers to him but Steve was right, didn’t have much choice in the matter. 

“Check your pockets, Harrington,” he said, flicking the cigarette away before he’d gotten halfway through. He turned on his heel and made his way toward Tommy and Carol and whoever else decided to congregate near Tommy’s fucking fancy car. 

The middle finger he raised was for them, grimacing when Tommy just whooped at him like it was funny. Like he hadn’t just been basically dragged away from the one nice thing that had happened to him since he’d gotten here. At least he’d get the note. Unless he was just drunk when he’d said...fuck. 

***

Steve heard the zipper open as Billy tucked something inside, trying to twist to see and be sort of casual about it, but he couldn’t see anything, especially with Billy thumping him on the chest while he did it – holding him in place. Steve squinted at him in something like confusion before nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay. See ya ‘round, Hargrove.” He watched Billy’s retreating back, painfully curious about whatever he’d put in his backpack. 

He watched Billy rejoin the group ambling outside of Tommy’s car, like a pack of hyenas prowling back and forth, awaiting their leader. 

Steve flicked his cigarette away too – it was mostly just ash now anyway – and started after Billy, but in another direction, heading towards his own Beamer, walking fast in the cold. He slid into the drivers side on the cream leather seats, pulling off his backpack and impatiently unzipping the side pocket. Maybe he should wait until he got home, but he didn’t have that kind of patience. He found a creased note, like it had been folded and unfolded, folded again. 

Steve flicked it open. He went still, dark eyes reading the simple words over and over, like he had to make sure he was reading them correctly in that nice, elegant cursive. 

‘Like you too.’ 

Something warm blossomed within Steve’s chest, right where Hargrove had touched him, as if he’d burned his handprint into the space above Steve’s navel, between the gap of his ribcage. 

Steve lifted his eyes, lips pursed as he searched for Billy across the length of the parking lot – over by Tommy’s car.

At Tommy’s sleek silver car, the freckle faced kid was laughing with the others, an arm slung around Carol’s shoulders.  
“What the hell was Harrington doin’ talking to you?” 

“Probly trying to get him to join his new losers club,” Carol smirked, smacking her gum and twisting some hair around her other hand that wasn’t snaked around Tommy’s waist.

***

Billy thought maybe this was it. Maybe this was the day he finally put Tommy in a chokehold in front of everyone. He’d planned on doing it the day he left Hawkins but hearing him talk, hearing any of them talk was making him bristle. It was nothing like Saturday night, the low lilt of Steve’s voice or the way he held his hand, sweet compared to what his dick was doing. 

“You two need to get off my dick, I don’t have time for this shit,” he said, words harsh but his voice level, sighing and digging his keys out, twirling them a few times. “Listen, can’t hang. Have to take the little shithead to the arcade but I’ll catch you later.”

He didn’t wait for Tommy’s response before tailing it to the Camaro, though he could hear the disappointment immediately. Max was rolling up just in time, eyeing him in a way that made his skin crawl and his own eyes narrow. 

“What?” he said, the look on her face one of total calm. He didn’t scare her anymore, he knew that, and she’d been...overhearing lately. He could tell by the look on her face sometimes, a lot like the one now. 

All she did was give him a shake of her head, her lips pressed tightly together while she threw her skateboard in the back, slumping down into her seat like the sulky fucking tween she was. He sighed and followed suit, gesturing to the glovebox as he peeled out of the parking lot. 

“Monthly dues for being an asshole are in there as usual,” he said, biting his cheek to keep from smiling when she opened it, quarters falling out at her feet. He gave her an innocent look, the tone of his voice a lot different than the first time he’d said it. “What?”

“You look really tired,” was all she said, the moment cut short but at least she didn’t have that concerned troll doll look on her face, too busy counting quarters as he parked diagonally in front of the arcade. 

***

Steve had to go pick up the nerds to bring them to the arcade – he swung out of the parking lot after he saw Max climb into the back of Billy’s camaro, and headed towards Hawkins Middle. Dustin clambered into the front seat as Mike, Lucas, and Will got in the back. 

“You’re late, Steve.” Mike bitched. 

“Yeah, well I got held up.” Even Mike’s annoyance really couldn’t ruin the current high he was riding. “Seatbelts.”

Everyone clicked on their seatbelts.

“Why do you look so happy? What happened?” Lucas asked suspiciously. 

“You look like you did when you first started dating Nancy. Why are you grinning like that?” Dustin added like a little wiseass. “Is it a girl??”

“No, it’s not a girl.” Steve stopped smiling when he looked over in time to see Dustin snatching up the folded paper - the one he’d tucked into the space by the center console meant for holding pennies and things. “Woah, hey, shithead – don’t – “

Steve grabbed for it, but he was already driving dammit – the BMW swerved a little and he immediately corrected the steering wheel with both hands, before he ran one through his hair. “C’mon, Dust, give it back. Don’t be a little asshole.”

“OOOOOH it IS a girl. My man Steve!” Dustin crowed. Holding the note out like an interesting book.

“No way seriously? I thought he was gonna die alone.” Lucas laughed.

“Shut up.” Steve grumbled, hand held out expectantly.

Dustin gave him his cute chipmunk smile and plopped the paper in his hand, but the damage was done.

“That’s some fancy cursive Steve. She must be a real woman. Who is she? We can keep a secret! And by we, I mean me, your best friend in the whole world. Details, man!”

Steve swallowed a choked laugh, felt heat crawl up the back of his neck. A real woman, huh? Oh god. He turned on the radio. Turned it up to drown out Dustin. He kept his mouth shut. 

A-Ha drowned them out even as they shouted at each other over the music who it could be. “Tracy! It’s Tracy!” “No no, remember, Denise? He was talking about Denise before!” 

Steve slid down into his seat as he pulled into the Palace parking lot, the note safely tucked into the pocket of his jacket. Billy was maybe going to murder him. And he’d just said that he liked him, too. 

***

Billy watched the BMW drive in not too far from him and had the urge to hunch his shoulders, maybe melt into his seat. So much for being coy, fucking tiny town. The desire only got worse when Max got out, in the middle of giving him the middle finger goodbye she loved so much when they both heard one of her friends—the goofy one with the hat, yelling about how Steve finally got some action, asking Steve to show Max the note. 

He looked, or tried to look at Steve through the window but couldn’t get a clear enough picture, groaning and sinking into his seat while he lit a cigarette. It seemed to make Max pause, her eyes on him but with an expression he didn’t see because he was decidedly not looking. They’d finally started getting along but the second he lingered on why they were here in the first place he was gonna fucking lose it. 

“Go, shitbird. I’ll be back in two hours,” he said, rolling the window down and pointing at her. “Don’t make me come in there, I haven’t done anything to deserve Keith.”

“Just—Billy…”

Billy did meet eyes with Max then and he knew what she was saying. Be careful. It made his blood boil, whatever chance he had of not getting worked up again blown to smithereens. He had been careful, Max had just been itching to be Neil’s good daughter. Now she knew better, but it made no difference. The lack of sleep told him that. 

“Maxine. Fuck off,” he said finally, stepping out of the car to give her some incentive, leaning against the side of it while she scurried away. 

***

As the boys scrambled towards the arcade, waving at Max, Will stopped by Steve’s window, leaning in to say – ‘I think it’s really nice,’ in that soft voice of his, a little smile on his face, before he skipped to keep up with the guys. ‘Thanks’ Steve called after him, but he was far enough down in his seat maybe Billy wouldn’t see him and end his life right there. Even from here he could hear Dustin yammering away to Max about the note and ‘a real woman’ and Christ, kill him.

Steve bit his lip and looked over across the parking lot at Billy, with really only his eyes actually above the lip of the window well – that and all of his hair. He wondered if he could tell if Billy was mad from here. He looked mad, Steve figured. Or like…tired? Mad? 

Steve figured he should probably go over there. He pulled the keys from the ignition, the heater – which had been blasting – cutting off. Then he slowly stepped out of the Beamer, slamming the car door as he considered leaning there for a bit. Instead he decided to grow a pair, and steadily walked towards Billy’s car. Scuffing his Nikes against the asphalt and leftover, brown snow. He leaned down by the passenger side, rapping gently on the window. 

***

Billy pretended to consider acknowledging Steve, if only to save his pride at least just a sliver. Like he couldn’t see him out of the corner of his eye, all fucking handsome and leaning over his car. It made him feel—Jesus, it made him feel flustered and that wasn’t an emotion he came across often. 

“You know, you’re really ruining my suave move by seeing me like fifteen minutes later,” he finally said after reaching over, pushing the passenger door open and pulling his sunglasses off. Ones he didn’t even need, but he thought if anyone would understand unnecessary accessories it would probably be Steve. 

***

Steve grinned at that as he settled into the bucket seat of the Camaro, closing the door behind him and shifting on the dark leather – breathing in deep – he’d never actually been in Billy’s car before (conscious), and it was just like he thought it would be. But he was too busy looking at Billy to actually pay much attention to the interior or the dash. Smelled like Billy in here. Like the conditioned leather of the seats, old nicotine, the spice of his cologne and a little sweet like sweat after they played basketball. It was musky and heady and perfect. 

“Yeah well, figured Sunday was a long enough wait. And didn’t see you at school, so.” Steve stared at Billy for a second.  
“Sorry – about, Dustin. He thinks he’s real hot shit sometimes, and – well, just ignore him. I didn’t say anything, or anything. It was. A suave move, I mean. I guess they seemed to think so too. ” Well kind of. Steve didn’t understand half of what they were saying most of the time.

***

“Sunday a long time for you?” Billy said, some genuine surprise in his voice as he turned himself a little more in Steve’s direction. 

They weren’t at school anymore. There weren’t people he hated in his immediate vicinity, no eyes on him, dissecting him. The corner of his mouth ticked up, the first expression he’d made that felt comfortable in days, his eyes flicking down to Steve’s hands. It was stupid, couldn’t happen, but he still pictured what it might be like. If there was some kind of alternate universe where reaching for Steve’s hand wouldn’t end in somebody tagging his car. 

“You miss me or something?”

***

The seat squeaked as Steve turned a little more towards Billy, his face opening and eyes brightening at the questions. Mirroring Billy as they tilted towards each other in unison. 

He still had the buzz of ‘Like you Too’ in his veins and it was keeping him high, little shitheads be damned. Billy was acting entirely different compared to outside the school, when he’d thought Billy sorta wanted him to fuck off. But this felt different, in the car. The air felt charged – Steve followed Billy’s eyes, gaze dropping to his own hands. He chewed on his lip, looking back up at Billy slowly. 

“Yeah, I guess it was. It felt like a long time – I was just, waiting for school to start up.” Max had told him not to come to the house before – and Steve took heed of that. 

And had he missed Billy?  
A smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s lips.  
“Maybe.” He said, but it sounded like ‘yes’. 

Steve tilted his head, studying the darker circles under Billy’s eyes, the way his eyelids drooped just enough. 

“You look tired. Was everything okay, when you got home? I know it was really late – or early, take your pick.” 

Steve didn’t know why he said that. He hated when people told him he ‘looked tired.’ Like yeah no shit, it’s ‘cause he never slept - saturday night was the best he had slept in months.

***

“You saying I look bad?” Billy teased, though he guessed it had a little bit of truth in it, some actual curiosity. He tamped down the urge to get a look at himself in the mirror, the glances he’d gotten before he’d come to pick Max up enough to tell him he looked like absolute shit. 

He let Steve’s words sink in, all of them, mulled them over while he took a drag, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. Felt like a long time and maybe were sweet, enough to make him smile down at nothing while he fiddled with his lighter. 

“Went fine, just tired,” he said, eyes still fixed on the lighter as it clicked open and snapped closed, made it easier to say. Not easy, but easier. 

***

“I don’t think you could look bad if you tried.” Steve smiled, dark eyes thoughtful. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that – people say that to me a lot and it, it kind of annoys the shit out of me when they do.”

Steve leaned back into the seat, relaxing against the leather, watching Billy from the corner of one eye. Listening to the silver zippo snap open, closed. Open, closed. Steve closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the second-hand smoke, enjoying Billy’s presence – something if he’d told himself a few weeks ago, he would have laughed in his own face. 

He tried not to think about how ‘went fine’ sounded like a lie. Figured he was imagining it. 

“You could take a nap.” Steve cracked his eyes open at Billy. “The kids’ll be fucking around in there for god knows how long. I can keep an eye out for them.”

***

Billy frowned and thought about how, yeah, Steve did look pretty tired most of the time. He wondered how it was possible with a house that big and comfortable but then he thought about what he’d do. He’d probably go fucking nuts in the quiet, fidget himself to death if he was in that place by himself. Maybe Steve’s parents had been out that night, maybe they fought and it kept him up? Or maybe they were normal and he was just projecting like the school counselor back in California said. 

The offer was good, better than good. Billy only had a split second to enjoy the idea before he swallowed hard, looking over his shoulder like Neil might appear at just the suggestion. He looked at Steve then and couldn’t figure out a good way to lie without hurting Steve’s feelings. He didn’t want to do that, it turned out. 

“I—thanks, I can’t—shit,” he said, taking a deep breath to try and even himself out, let himself start over. “Listen, my old man wouldn’t be pleased to see me asleep with a guy in my car.”

***

“Oh, I – yeah. Yeah I didn’t think about that.” Steve frowned a little.Well, he figured friends slept in cars together sometimes. Well you know, not, not together together, but. Didn’t mean they were fucking each other (even if they were. Had?) But Steve had also grown up at the edge of the bible belt. And people could be really crazy sometimes – maybe Billy’s dad was one of those people. 

Steve tilted his head, considering, paying attention to the way Billy’s voice had sounded – tight and scared. He’d been with other guys back in Cali – right? That’s what Steve had thought. Maybe something happened.

“I dunno if it would help, but you could lay down in the back of my car…I have a blanket you could use, since it’s cold as hell, and your dad doesn’t know my car.” Steve shrugged, watching him. He just looked so tired, and he wanted to help. He didn’t want anyone to feel like he did half the time. “It’s just an option - you don’t have to say yes.” 

***

Billy stared Steve down, trying to poke around for holes in what he was saying. It wasn’t a bad plan, and he was fucking dead on his feet. It was true, Neil had never even gotten a glimpse of Steve’s car, and if he saw the Camaro with no driver, well, he’d probably assume Billy wandered into the auto shop. 

“I—yeah, if that’s okay,” he said, trying not to sound too eager at the idea of being under Steve’s blankets again. Even if it was just one he had in the Beemer. 

The idea of not seeming eager sort of got trumped by how exhausted he was because he threw himself out of the Camaro before Steve could back out, gesturing for him to get out so he could lock up. Hawkins was a sleepy town but it was still second nature to worry about someone trying to lift his shit, remembering all the numbers he had in his glove box. Ones with decidedly masculine names on them. 

***

“Okay, great. It’s totally fine! Trust me, I’d so much rather wait out here with you.” Steve cracked a broad grin at him, pleased at getting him to get some rest – able to help – and he stepped out of the Camaro a little wistfully. Eventually, he wanted to spend more time in that car when he wasn’t half unconscious. It was a sexy car, he’d thought so since Billy first rolled in that autumn day – nothing like Steve’s expensive ass BMW, all conservative leather, modest lines, and wood paneling in the dash.

The Beamer was already open - Steve rarely locked it, but Steve popped the trunk to grab the blanket out – it was the really warm, rich wool plaid one. In an Indiana winter, you always kept a blanket in the back with water in thermoses, just in case. With Billy in the back, Steve slid in to the drivers seat in front of him – legitimately having to fight the urge to get in the back so he could get Billy’s head in his lap, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

He didn’t wanna spook Billy. Also, with his luck Dustin would come out and see them in the window, and wow that would not go over so hot. Dustin couldn’t keep a damn secret to save his life, even if he insisted otherwise. 

Steve got the engine going to run the heater and blow his gas, and passed the blanket back - which still smelled like home, despite being in the trunk. 

***

Billy yawned before he’d even laid down, gratefully taking the blanket and throwing it over himself. His head hit the backseat with a sigh, his body curling up instinctually. For some reason it was in his sleep that he decided to take up as little space as possible, sort of poised for something just in case. 

“Wake me up in an hour, would you? Like making a show of storming inside,” he said, smiling and closing his eyes, hiding another yawn in the blanket. “Scare the shit out of that guy Keith apparently, puts a little wind in my sails.”

He cracked an eye open to look at Steve, the heat coming from the car not the only thing that felt warm. His hand reached out, fingertips grazing the back of the driver’s seat like he was touching Steve himself before he tucked it back to his chest and squished his cheek against the seat. 

“Thanks, Steve.”

***

Steve couldn’t help his lips tugging up feeling warm all over with how Billy said ‘Thanks, Steve.’ It literally lit him up from top to toe.  
He turned his head against the headrest to gaze back at Billy, a smile in his eyes, and he didn’t miss the way Billy’d brushed his hand against the seat. Steve wished he could hold it. 

“Anytime, Billy. Get some rest.” Steve replied in a low voice.

Once Billy was out cold, snoring lightly in the back, Steve sat in the front, the radio on low, thinking a lot of his thoughts. He felt weirdly like he was sort of – keeping watch or something, while Billy slept. Like keeping guard. Guard-Steve. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, idly keeping track of the time. 

When the hour rolled around, he was reluctant to actually wake Billy. He looked so peaceful back there, and Steve maybe stared at him for a while longer than necessary. He just looked so…different like that. His face was all smooth, with none of the harsh lines he usually wore day to day. He looked like an entirely different person, one without worries or cares. It made something twist in Steve’s chest. 

Steve leaned back between the seats, one hand braced on the headrest as he nudged at the sleeping boy’s shoulder, whispering the word ‘Billy!’ When that didn’t work, against his better judgement, he reached out to instead trace a hand down Billy’s face, smoothing rough curls away. As if memorizing the curve of his cheek.

***

Billy’s body went still at the touch to his face but his breathing stayed the same, face still relaxed with sleep. When his eyes opened he was fully awake, same as every other fucking time, no slow starts. There’d been too many rude awakenings for him to really sleep through anything unless he was in his car alone, and even then there was something about the quiet that put him on edge. 

When he saw who was touching him it brought him back to exactly where he was, though he frowned in confusion when his arms stayed tangled in the blanket. With an irritated grunt he slipped one hand out, grabbing onto the one on his face, squeezing it like he’d wanted to. 

“Time to go make Keith piss himself, I guess,” he said, though he made no moves to sit up for a moment, holding Steve’s hand and staring at where their fingers caught on each other. “I—hey, thanks again. Have to say that now before I do an army roll out of your car.”

***

“Morning, sunshine.”

Steve loves the way their fingers connect, it does all kind of things to him, he supposes. It reminds him of the other night, of sweaty palms and the bite of nails when they clenched too hard, of rubbing circles into Billy’s thumb. He felt himself go a little red in the face, gazing at Billy from beneath long lashes. Reveling in the squeeze of Billy’s hand, the way it made his breath hitch. 

But then, - “Euh. Keith.” Steve wrinkled his nose. Total turn off. “He kept hitting on Nance whenever we went to the arcade last year and I almost socked him. He can never take a hint.” Steve shook his head, hair flopping over his forehead. “You’re welcome – just, try and get some sleep tonight, huh?” Steve smiled at him like a happy puppy. Soothing his thumb along Billy’s. “Army roll away.” 

***

Billy’s mouth tightened at the mention of Nancy but he tried to keep his smile real, squeezing Steve’s hand one more time before letting it drop. He moved out from under the blanket and fought down the compulsion to fold it perfectly, left it bundled up in the backseat as he slipped out, instantly looking around. No one was there to pay attention so he busied himself smoothing his jacket back down, looking over his shoulder before he shoved his way inside of the arcade. 

“Look a little better, how’d you manage that?” Max said as they climbed back into the Camaro, Billy pulled from his thoughts, from staring at Steve’s car as the kids all piled in. 

All he gave her was a shake of the head, trying not to be too dismissive. Sometimes it felt like it costed an arm and a fucking leg to keep things level between them but he was trying. Trying to at least not be too much like Neil, breaking shit and just leaving it there. Maybe he was different, if Max kind of liked him now. If Steve liked him. 

***

Steve didn’t actually know if Billy was just like, not showing up to school or what. Was he playing hookie on all of these days he’d been missing? Had his dad called out sick for him since he’d apparently gotten hit by a bus or some shit? 

He’d seemed alright when Steve saw him last, even if he hadn’t exactly army rolled out of his car or whatever. If he was just ditching he as gonna get in trouble, and this was the fourth day Steve hadn’t seen him at school. Steve was following this random train of thought from his room, every light in his house turned on, because he was having one of THOSE nights. One of those nights when he knew he wasn’t going to sleep, every light in the house was burning bright, the heater was sweltering, and Steve’d cleaned the entire kitchen – twice. One of those nights when he felt like he was on meth or something, even if he wasn’t – he’d never even tweaked before, but he figured meth-heads probably acted like that.

It happened when the house felt too big, when he felt too alone, when the dark was too much. The trees too close.

Hell, Steve didn’t know what triggered nights like these.

He’d tried to take a shower to calm the fuck down. Tried to think about other things, like why the hell Billy wasn’t at school. Normal things. Things from this world. 

He was pacing in is room now, in nothing but grey sweats, slung low on his hips - sweating. Arms folded tight over his chest as he kept glancing up at the window that overlooked the pool – even though the pool was drained for the winter so it wouldn’t freeze, he still sometimes thought he caught the blue-green glow of it through the blinds. He kept his blinds closed for two reasons – the pool, and creepy pictures. 

Steve paced s’more, chewing at his thumbnail. He pulled his thumb away. Don’t start it again. 

Maybe he should turn up the heater a few more degrees.  
No, no that was stupid. It was hot in here. Steve paced more. 

Then something happened that usually didn’t happen on nights like these. Steve heard something. Something from outside. Steve’s heart jumped into his fucking throat as he froze there, jackrabbiting away at his jugular, and he couldn’t breathe for a second. 

He should call Nancy. Or Jonathan. Or Hop. Or somebody. 

No way. No way, right? There was no way.

The sound came again. It was definitely coming from outside. 

No FUCKING WAY right? 

Steve hit his knees by the edge of his bed and scrambled for the bat hidden beneath - snatching for the familiar grit of wood beneath his palm. He tugged it out, the dull, rusted glint of nails a comfort. He was imagining it. It was in his head. It wasn’t real. Steve gripped the bat handle so hard he felt his joints creak, eyes screwed shut as he willed the sounds away. It wasn’t real. 

***

The past week was clearly a fucking write off, a total shitty waste of seven days. Well, except for Saturday night. That’s why Billy was here, about to break his fucking neck trying to get a good grip on the bottom of Steve’s window. Two stories with no first floor roof was—he probably should’ve tried the front door, but he needed to get in. 

The whole day had been a fucking maelstrom of anxiety and he felt wrung out, thankfully not as tired as he’d been when he’d slept in Steve’s car. This was a different kind of tired, the existential kind or something. The Hawkins High guidance counselor had held him hostage in her office the whole day, grilling him and trying to pressure him about being valedictorian again. It was worse this time though, with all the days he’d missed and the bruise on his face not making a very good case for himself. Neil was getting sloppy, too trigger happy because his whipping boy was going to be out of the house in just a handful of months. As always, Billy cleaned up after. 

He maintained bright smiles and polite refusals to take college brochures, said no thanks at the valedictorian offer instead of saying I’d rather fuck a dog like he’d wanted to. He rattled off some well crafted excuses for his absences and his bruises, a wild weekend gone wrong, overestimating his teenage stamina. In the end she’d looked disappointed in him like everyone else did, but at least she didn’t look sympathetic or pitying anymore. 

By the time he’d gotten out Steve’s car was gone, the cherry on top of a fucking terrible day and it just wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t so here he was, hand reaching up to smack at Steve’s window before he pushed it open, nearly falling and probably breaking something when he saw what Steve had in his hand. 

“Hey, hey, no way. Get that thing away from me, almost took my dick off last time I saw it,” he said, trying to push up on his arm before dangling the other one through the window. “Help me in or I’m gonna break something valuable like my face.”

***

There was a sound at the window, a slapping sound. It was happening, oh my god, it was happening and Steve was going to fucking kill it whatever it was – zoning in on the window as he crept closer to it, losing his fucking mind a little but suddenly totally calm on the outside, and he could do this, and – Steve froze when an arm pushed through. A human arm. A Billy arm. A Billy arm? 

Steve gaped at him, his brown hair standing up all crazy on his head like a startled cockatoo, as he realized in horror he’d about to beat in his fucking brains. Shit. Steve dropped the bat on the floor with a thunk, where it rolled against the wall. Dropped it like he’d been burned. 

“I – uh , holy shit what the fuck are you doing?! I have A DOORBELL YOU FUCKING CRAZY PERSON OH MY GOD! Oh my god,” 

Steve gulped and staggered forward to grab at Billy’s underarms so he didn’t fall two stores to be the second one to die in Steve’s pool. He latched on under Billy’s arms, and hauled him into the room, not even aware that he was shaking like a leaf as the adrenaline pounded through him with nowhere to go. 

***

“I was being romantic,” Billy yelled back, indignant even as he nearly landed on his ass and pretended he absolutely meant to sit right on the floor. “Today fucking sucked so I was doing a—I’ll use the door next time, alright?”

He stretched his legs out in front of him and rested back against the wall under the window to catch his breath. Climbing up a house wasn’t an easy feat even if he did have a fuckload of core strength thanks to good old Neil’s regimen. Once he could breathe again he took Steve in, the sort of spazzy look about him that reminded him of that Byers kid’s mom, big brown eyes and practically vibrating all the time. It was also sweltering inside, bright as day. 

“Hey, are you—you good?”

***

“Uh, no, no I’m not okay, I – I could’ve – “ Steve gasped at him, grabbing at his own hair and tugging at the roots. He blinked wildly down at Billy, standing in front of him, having to take a few steps back, distancing himself. 

“Never, never be romantic again. Or, or call me first, or. Or something. Oh Jesus.” Steve turned his back on Billy to take a few steps away, hands on hips, his bones feeling ready to shake out of his skin with something like horror and something like relief – horror at what might have happened, and relief at what hadn’t been there. “How did you even - ?”

Steve froze a few steps away from Billy as he came back to himself. He slowly turned around, his jaw slightly agape. If he had known Billy was coming over….christ he looked like a crazy person. Steve blinked at him, once. Closed his mouth. “I’m….fine.”

***

Billy watched Steve move away and felt a little sick, chewing the inside of his cheek and trying not to clench his hands. Steve very, very clearly had—what, something going on? Somebody coming over or something? He didn’t know, but he was very familiar with the way his guts were churning. 

He pushed himself up to his feet and looked at the window, mouth twisting up in discomfort. That probably wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done. Jesus, did someone holding his hand really make him this stupid? He patted his jacket for his keys and found at least they hadn’t fallen out during the climb. 

“I’ll—listen, I’ll just catch you later,” he said, grimacing inwardly at himself. Trapping himself upstairs wasn’t smart either. “I’ll use the front door this time.”

***

Steve was trying to wrestle his breathing back under control, but the whole house smelled like cleaning products, and it was so fucking hot in here - it felt like the Steam Room down at Hawkins Community Pool. He watched a myriad of emotions crawl over Billy’s face, ones he couldn’t quite pin down – and usually Steve was pretty good at reading people. But he thought they looked hurt. Shit, shit shit. 

Steve frowned, pushing a palm against one eye, pressing there until it hurt a little. What a bad night for him to have come over. Honestly any other night would have been amazing, and Steve hadn’t had a night like this in a while. What piss poor timing.

“Wh – no no, I’m. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to um. Shout or anything. My mom says I do that when I get ‘worked up’ or whatever, and – you just scared the shit out of me, man. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.”

Steve didn’t realize until he said it, now that it was sinking in that Billy was HERE and Steve hadn’t almost sent him to his death in the fucking pool below that gave Steve the shakes…well…holy shit he didn’t want him to go. 

“...please don’t go?”

***

Billy watched Steve stammer through an explanation and then a request for him to stay, a little calmed by how awkward it seemed. He wondered what people like Steve did when they were afraid of something. Probably didn’t put holes in shit or scream into something. Maybe he could try it out, maybe it’d help Steve too. 

He moved forward but bypassed Steve in case he was feeling too jumpy in favor of flopping onto his back across the foot of Steve’s bed. He let out a long, put upon sigh, his arms flopping above his head as he looked at Steve upside down. 

“I was stuck in the guidance counselor’s office for five fucking hours today,” he said finally, scowling and then wondering whether that looked attractive or not with his face flipped around. “Five hours.”

***

Joyce had told Steve she thought that the reason he got so jumpy sometimes was because he was alone so much. Will and Jonathan and her had each other. Nancy had a whole house full of family, and Jonathan if she needed to talk about the shit. Hopper had Jane and…well whoever else Hopper had, who knew. Steve was just…sort of…here. Joyce had told him he could come over when he felt like this. He never did. 

Steve watched the way Billy flopped over his bed, stretched all long over the mattress, watching him upside down. Steve tried to smile at him. He still felt too on edge though. Eventually, he finally managed to ease forward to sit on the edge of the bed, a little distance from Billy. Fingers tangled up in his lap like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. He could feel them shaking.

“Holy shit – five hours?” Steve asked, looking at Billy’s upturned face, raising his brows. “So that’s where you were all day? I’d figured you were skipping again. What could she’ve said for five hours?” It felt good talking about something normal - it was a distraction, a welcome one.

***

“Believe me, if I could’ve come in I would’ve,” Billy said, then promptly shut his fucking mouth. 

He wiggled his fingers at Steve but wasn’t too put out when he didn’t take them, thought it might take a little while. Honestly, just being around someone he didn’t hate was...nice. 

“Talked about college applications, valedictorian shit, my personal issues,” he said a little bitterly, mulling the words over in his mouth like a taste he wasn’t fond of. “It was fine, just a slog. Not the first time I’ve been called in to talk to a guidance counselor, hopefully the last though. She was concerned, didn’t like how many days I missed. Told her it’s not like it was my fucking fault I—anyway, whatever. Got her off my ass but it felt like I was in fucking purgatory. I miss anything good?”

***

Steve blinked at the offered fingers, before studying his own hands. He slowly eased himself back on the bed, flopping out next to Billy – their hips starting at opposite sides of the bed, heads meeting in the middle, side by side, from different directions. Steve reached his right hand up to take the offered right hand, even if he wasn’t really expected to take it anymore. Only their fingers touched, intertwined. Steve closed his eyes and tried to fucking relax, listening to the comforting lull of Billy’s timbre – he could have lay there and listened to him talk for hours, probably. 

“College applications? Where’d you apply to? And wait, valedictorian? Like, like for you to be valedictorian? You’re gonna do that? That’s so fucking cool.” Steve wrapped his fingers up farther with Billy’s, his palm facing open air. He hoped Billy couldn’t feel them tremble. “Personal issues, huh?…not your fault you what?” He tipped his head over a little, lashes barely opening – close enough from here that he could see a smattering of freckles from the sun on Billy’s cheek, and the up close watercolor of his eye – violet blending into yellow and green at the edges. “’s looking a little better.” Steve added, voice quiet. 

“You didn’t miss anything. More Tell-Tale heart shit in English, but I think you probably covered that a few years ago. Apparently I get to read it to the whole class this year because the teacher won’t pick anyone else to read. Asshole.” Then Steve’d come home and lost his fucking shit, apparently. He didn’t even know what time it was anymore. Had school ended thirty minutes ago? Hours ago?

***

Billy’s mouth twisted again but it wasn’t for himself. He knew Steve wasn’t that book smart, not that it mattered. Even though he was he still didn’t think it mattered, just that he’d had to be his whole life. College was some kind of oasis in the distance and he’d busted his ass to make sure he could get the fuck away from Neil. He knew what embarrassment sounded like and he didn’t revel in it, not when Steve was the one expressing it. He turned his hand to grasp more of Steve’s, fingertips flexing in a little hello. 

“I uh—UCLA, Berkeley, Stanford, couple others. It’s weird though, guess the closer it gets the less I care. I should probably be excited,” he said distantly, looking at Steve’s nauseatingly busy wallpaper for a minute. 

Even if this was a room where clearly Steve wasn’t feeling that great, it felt sort of safe. Like maybe he could actually talk, just a little, sober too. 

“Yeah, haven’t you heard? I’m batshit crazy, Steve, I have emotional problems,” he said, his voice even like he was reading a particularly boring part of the newspaper, the only way he could do it without chickening out. “Turned down valedictorian. Thought Neil might find a way to fuck it up in front of everybody, I don’t know.”

***

Steve’s fingers tightened in response, greeting Billy back. 

His eyes were closed again as he kept his head tilted towards Billy, his breath slowly evening out. Finally. His brows raised a bit in something like surprise, though – those were all big name, nice schools. Schools like Steve knew his dad wanted Steve to’ve gone to. Harvard particularly – that’s where his dad went, and he’d wanted Steve to follow in his footsteps. 

“Huh.” Steve murmured. Somehow he had no doubt that Billy’d get into all of them. Steve knew what he would be doing. “You should definitely be excited, that sounds awesome. It’ll be like an adventure. You can get outta here.” 

Steve’s eyes worried themselves open again at what Billy said next, his brow puckering. “You’re not crazy. Sorry I called you crazy. Before. You’re not. My mom would just say you’re – ‘intense,’ maybe.” Steve frowned, turning his head away a little, studying the popcorn ceiling. He thought about the way Billy’s face had twisted above him, red at the nose with blood Steve’d caused, raining down blows. The way his features warped with fury. Intense. 

“Woah, wait what? You – you turned it down? Why would you turn that down?” Steve remembered ‘Neil’ was Billy’s dad, Max’d mentioned it before. “Maybe your dad’s the crazy one? You should totally do it, there’s probably nobody smarter in our class. Everybody knows that. I bet you’ll get into all those schools.” 

***

“Yeah, my dad’s...intense,” Billy said, gripping Steve’s hand a little harder as his gaze moved to the ceiling, trying to count the bumps. 

His face stopped and started on a few different emotions, never quite settling. It sort of felt like that all the time. He didn’t think he could remember the last time he’d told someone how he was feeling, maybe not since his mother and that was—Jesus, a long time ago. Okay, well, good of a time as any. Maybe it’d make Steve feel better. 

“Never said sorry for that night. I’m sorry,” he said, turning his head to look over Steve’s face, his own a bit pained. “It was—I don’t know. It was a really fucked up night before I even got there. It wasn’t you, I wasn’t hitting you. See? Crazy. I shouldn’t have—I just lost it. It was a fucked up night.”

He knew he was stammering and repeating himself and it sounded a lot less smooth, a lot less casual than he’d rehearsed. Granted, he was usually drunk when he’d rehearsed his Steve Harrington apology and he was now very regrettably sober. At least it was over, though the memory was creeping in, a little closer every second. 

***

Steve didn’t think he’d ever heard Billy talking about himself like this – not to anyone. Maybe he did in private sometimes, but it wasn’t something Steve’d ever heard. It was enlightening.

Steve’s head listed towards Billy’s at the same moment’s Billy’s turned towards him, neither of them looking at the ceiling anymore. Steve’s lashes lowered slightly at the apology, studying Billy’s authentic face - and his nostrils flared with an intake of breath. He’d never actually expected Billy to apologize. Really he hadn’t. He actually thought that Billy had thought he was entirely right about that whole situation, and that was the hill he’d have died on. But the way he stumbled over himself, stuttering really - damn, it was endearing as hell. 

“It wasn’t – it wasn’t just you. I hit you first, but just ‘cause, you know – Lucas. But I shouldn’t have escalated it, I just…I don’t know. Just. Thanks.” Steve breathed in low, let the air settle in his belly as he leaned forward at an awkward angle to essentially press a chaste, unlasting kiss to Billy’s mouth – upside down, chin brushing Billy’s nose. 

***

Billy didn’t have time to nod before Steve’s lips were on his, something sweet and quick and dry. There wasn’t any ulterior motive to it and made something crack open, if only just a little. He returned the kiss and bumped his nose on Steve’s chin before pulling back an inch, enough to speak. 

“Neil’s a racist piece of shit,” he said in hushed tones, looking out of the corner of his eye for a second, the always invisible figure of his father in the corner of any room. “If he knew—he’d fucking maim that kid, maim me for letting it happen. Thought if I scared them both enough they’d stop, I wouldn’t have—I wasn’t going to do anything. It was fucked up, I know it’s still fucked up.”

He swallowed hard against the sudden flip his stomach did, not grateful that they were so close in that moment. He would’ve liked to be doing something else when he said it, maybe talking through a can on a fucking string from another continent entirely. He’d never snitched on Neil, not once in his whole life, but a tiny kiss ripped it right out of him before he could think about it. 

***

Steve’s eyes went wide at that, tracking the way Billy tilted his head back, the arch his his throat as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. Absorbing the way his hushed voice wavered, something he couldn’t miss this up close. Steve was quiet for along time. Processing. He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling too. Blinking. Thinking and rerecording over months of thoughts and impressions of that night, and what he had thought had happened, and what – what was actually the truth. Steve breathed out long and slow. 

“Oh.” Steve said. “…I didn’t know.” Now it was his turn to swallow. “None of us knew. We thought...I don’t know what we thought.” 

Steve’s shoulders shifted against the duvet. The word ‘maim’ was stuck in his head. It was such a macabre word. That had been one of their vocabulary words in English since they were working with Shakespeare. Macabre. It was macabre. ‘Maim’ stuck in the back of Steve’s throat like a toothpick, sharp, dense, and wooden. Steve lifted his free hand to touch at the broken bulb of Billy’s eye socket. Fingertips soft as feather down. It took him a second to get the words out, breath mixing with Billy’s air.

“... - did he do that?” 

***

Billy had heard that particular handful of words before. From a few cops when his mother was still around. From a guidance counselor or two. From a boyfriend, just once, back in California before he’d disappeared on him. It was easy to put on a straight face then. Smile with missing baby teeth and shake his head. Talk about what a reckless teenager he was. Take his clothes off instead. None of them had hands like this. 

“No,” he said quietly, the word stuck in his throat so hard it felt like he was choking. 

The straight face was there but it was faulty, like seeing your reflection in a pool of water. Wobbling precariously, warped like a funhouse mirror. He went still at the touch and swallowed again with the tiniest shake of his head, hand frozen in the one holding his. Got in a fight. 

***

Steve’s forehead wrinkled up as he watched the look Billy gave him, this wavering look that shifted in front of his very eyes like nothing was holding still, fluid as water. Shaking his head, saying ‘no,’ and Steve frowned a little – but he wasn’t going to push it, either. But that word, ‘maim’ was embedded in the rear of Steve’s brain now. The mottled map of bruises across Billy’s back still vivid in his mind’s eye. He wouldn’t forget either of those things.

Steve nodded a little. “Okay.” Was all he said. 

He leaned in to carefully brush his nose with Billy’s. He knew it was too much. Too much to ask Billy to trust him yet. They’d been at bitter, opposite ends of things for months – and had barely had more than a few days being, well…whatever this was. 

“Okay,” Steve repeated, kissing at the bridge of Billy’s nose. 

Steve breathed in the scent of his skin from there, and marveled at how much Billy had calmed him down – but he still felt like he had a screw rattling around loose in his brain , and he was holding on to Billy’s hand like a lifeline, and he knew that if he directed his attention outside of their little bubble that the world would seem too much again. He wondered if maybe this was what Mrs. Byers had been talking about. That it was easier to get through these…these ‘episodes’ or whatever they were, when someone was with you.  
Talking about something so much bigger than Steve’s fear of the monsters in the dark. Something real. Someone real. It sounded like Billy had his own monster.

***

When Steve said okay it lifted the responsibility of confessing right off of Billy’s back, made it a little easier to breathe. He wasn’t sure there’d ever come a time when he’d be able to do it. Part of him worried, more and more lately, that maybe he’d regret it. That Neil might fly off the handle the closer he got to graduating. He guessed maybe that was why he wasn’t as excited about waiting for acceptance letters. The idea of Neil finding them and destroying them, of destroying something a whole lot less salvageable when it hit him that Billy would actually be getting away. 

He nudged Steve’s mouth back down with his free hand for another kiss, this one just a bit more intentional. It was a diversion, sure, but Steve had said okay so maybe it was. He gripped Steve’s hand back and turned toward him a bit more, his other fingers settling on Steve’s shoulder upside down. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, one more time for good measure maybe, before moving back in to kiss him again. 

***

Steve’s free arm stretched over his head to nest his fingers into the crown of Billy’s curls as Billy pulled close to him – kissing him again. Their other hands still twisted together like a love knot. Lips colliding with lips, noses brushing with chins, sharing breath from an entirely new angle and perspective. Steve liked it.

“I’m sorry too. I almost – when you came in. I’m sorry.” Steve whispered against Billy’s mouth, lips ghosting over each other. Breath hot. “I was having a bad night. It wasn’t you.” His tongue darted out to run along Billy’s lower lip, which was funny, because he actually had to lick upwards to do it. 

***

Billy nodded, an almost imperceptible movement in case it broke the kiss too much. He sighed into it, parting his lips in invitation and pressing closer when Steve’s tongue ran against his. He wanted to sit up, crawl on top of Steve, but this was sweet and hot and slow, something different than what he was used to. Maybe okay could mean letting someone else have it. 

It wasn’t you. It wasn’t either of them that night or tonight, it turned out, though it wasn’t completely true for Billy. The second he’d seen Steve he’d wanted him, knew he couldn’t have it, settled it within himself. He’d stolen what he was instead, got into the monkey suit to get the upper hand the only way he really knew how. He could still remember Steve’s fingers pressing against his chest, the look on his face when he’d said get out. He’d fucked up that night, really fucking lost it but the frisson of hurt still reared up. 

“Please,” he whispered, just like he had Saturday night. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, just that he could see himself holding something out to Steve, something small and significant all at once. 

***

Steve paused at Billy’s ‘please’ so he didn’t wipe it out with the swipe of his mouth, didn’t erase it. He paused and considered and thought of Saturday, tightening his hold on Billy’s hair. He got his tongue in Billy’s mouth, pressing the flat of it upwards against the surface of Billy’s tongue, licking a hot stripe over it, tastebuds to tastebuds -which was an entirely new angle for tongues, Steve thought- before he sucked Billy’s lower lip into his mouth, between straight white teeth, grazing them over the plump, pink flesh.

Then Steve was pulling away, sitting up, and crawling over so that they weren’t reversed anymore. He lowered himself over Billy, still shirtless, and covered in a fine layer of perspiration from being in a fucking hotbox of a house for hours. ‘He likes it cold’ so Steve kept his house hot when he got like this. He wanted to fucking forget all of that. Needed to forget it.

He lay his bare chest over Billy’s leather jacket (how was he still wearing that?) and pressed his hands into the mattress on either side of Billy’s head as he lowered himself to actually kiss him, really kiss him, to slot their mouths together in just the right way. Breathing hard against his nose, and angling his half exposed hip bones so that his grey sweats fit nicely against Billy’s blue jeans. 

“Tell me what you want,” Steve breathed into his mouth, a response to ‘please.’

***

Billy thought of the countless answers he had to the quiet demand Steve was giving. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to forget that his record player was still in pieces in his bedroom. He wanted to forget the fear that came with talking about Neil. He wanted to forget how out of control he’d felt that night, kneeling over Steve on a living room floor covered with bizarre drawings. 

“Want you to fuck me, sweetheart,” is what he settled on, legs spreading open on instinct at just the idea of it. One hand stayed at his side but the other roamed, moving over Steve’s belly absentmindedly before he pressed his palm into the bulge of Steve’s cock through his sweatpants. His mouth dropped open at the feeling, head lifted off of the mattress to try and chase Steve’s lips. Whatever he could do to convince him to oblige. 

***

Steve gasped a ‘yes’ against Billy’s mouth, which chased Steve’s lips upwards – his body jerking at the sensation of Billy’s hand on him. He lifted his head a little in surprise at the sudden contact, his hips pressing down, hungry for pressure. But he kept kissing Billy, more aggressive with it, driving his tongue down into the wet heat of that shit-talking mouth that he loved. It was still slow, but it was imbued with a low lying passion, fueled by a fire that burned deep in his belly. Steve loved having Billy on his bed like this. Pinning him into it with his tongue. 

Maybe they both had some things they could forget, even if just for a little while. 

Steve finally broke the kiss with a line of saliva still connecting them before he pulled away, rocking up onto his hips, with Billy’s denim clad cock beneath him. He literally sat on Billy’s groin, straddling him on either side, grinding down as he used his impatient hands to try and slide that bulky fucking jacket off. 

“Want you naked for me,” Steve admitted. “C’mon, baby.”

***

Billy nodded, jerking his hips up with mixed success, just a bit of friction but not nearly enough. He shrugged out of his jacket and shoved it off the bed, leaning up to reach up behind him. His shirt came up and off in one move and joined the jacket, legs kicking until his boots landed on the ground with a thud. 

“Good luck getting these jeans off,” he said, grinning and returning his hand to its rightful place. The squeeze he gave was a lot more purposeful this time, Steve’s cock hard and promising under his palm. “Want you to bend me over, get me begging for it.”

With their first fuck out of the way things felt a lot more natural now. The part of him that was rough and goading turned petulant and teasing in bed, waiting to find the moment when the other person would snap with a strong hand or a good thrust. Steve had proved more than capable of both, but it couldn’t hurt to bat his eyelashes. Just a little. 

***

Steve admired as Billy lost each piece of clothing, fingers chasing them away – touching at Billy’s abs as Billy tugged off his shirt, tweaking at his nipples like a reward. You know, there was something about having half their clothes on that was honestly a little hot – almost like being in too much of a rush to actually connect that even with jeans around your knees, that was good, too. 

Steve dropped his hands to undo Billy’s belt, at least getting his jeans open – enough so that he could pull his stiff dick free of those way-too tight jeans. Even that was kind of a challenge honestly, holy shit those jeans were tight – and it showed. Steve leaned in towards Billy, still straddling him, encircling Billy’s cock and sliding his palm up nice and slow. He lowered himself enough to brush noses, pink tongue darting out like a tease against Billy’s own as he started to pull Billy off nice and slow. Squeezing at the head. 

“Think I can manage that.” Steve hummed at him, his hips moving towards Billy’s touch, cock rock hard and leaking within his hand. 

This already felt so much easier than Saturday - and it felt even better being sober. Being completely there for it. And Jesus, he even liked Billy’s fire in bed, liked that he kept him working like on the court. 

***

Billy groaned in something like frustration, hips trying to up Steve’s pace while his own picked up. Like frustration but not quite because, well, he’d asked for it. Liked the way sex cracked his head right open like an egg. Made him loose and calm. Made it easy to forget about shit like the stripes of ache over his shoulder blades or the sort of neurotic fear painted over Steve’s face when he’d climbed in. 

He moved his hand off of Steve’s cock, used both to dig his fingers into his jeans, shoving them down to the middle of his thighs. His hands slid over Steve’s stomach, curling over the vee of his hips, that natural little Adonis belt and coming back around to touch the dimples in the small of his back. 

“You wanna use that, sweetheart?” he asked softly, leaning up while he pulled Steve’s cock free from his sweatpants, looking down and sighing. “Jesus.”

***

“Gotta get you begging first, don’t I?” Steve smirked against his mouth before he letting out a pant of relief as Billy pulled Steve out of his sweatpants. 

The gray material slid a little further down his hips as he followed the direction of Billy’s hand like a compass pointing north, shivering with pleasure. His own hand worked faster, building momentum, but his hand was mostly dry and he knew there was some room for improvement there. 

He slipped up to the head of Billy’s cock, thumb brushing along the sensitive underside before pressing along the slit, slick with pre-come. He left Billy’s mouth as he eased down that solid, thick body beneath him, kissing his way along the hollow of Billy’s throat, to his collarbone – spitting in his hand before he got it back down to Billy’s cock – then sucked a nipple into his mouth, the other hand kneading into Billy’s ass to pull his hips a little farther off the bed. 

***

Watching Steve spit made Billy’s dick twitch hard, eyes glazed over for a second before he remembered what he was doing, felt what Steve’s hand was doing. Then his mouth, that fucking mouth that had him arching his back, a big hand gripping his ass. Wasn’t hard to obey, not then. 

“Like my tits, sweetheart?” he asked, voice a little less teasing and a little more dazed. He tilted his head back in case Steve wanted to get a good look at his handiwork from Saturday, an angry purple at the bottom of his throat. He’d smiled about it when he’d seen it the next day, one shining little medal in the middle of all the bullshit. 

***

“Oh yeah, I really do.” Steve grinned, laughing breathlessly against the pale, carnation skin caught gently between his teeth. “You work out or something, babe?” Steve did admire it, the mark he’d left – he liked his mark on Billy’s throat, on his skin, like he was his. Steve sucked hard enough to maybe hurt, Billy’s bronzed catholic medal glinting next to his eye. 

As Billy arched up into him, Steve moved with him in a fluid roll of his body, tugging at Billy a little bit harder, biting at his chest. He slithered down Billy’s body with one last swipe of his tongue at the faint mark he’d left, missing the heat of Billy’s hand as he got too far away. He let that hard cock go, as he kissed down the broad plane of Billy’s stomach, catching his teeth at a hipbone. Licking downwards along the V line there, like it was pointing the way for him. Like a fucking lit up arrow. Burning, dark chocolate eyes strayed upwards to get a glimpse at Billy’s face - searching for his expression.

***

Billy laughed, a soft sound that tapered off, got quieter as Steve moved lower. He spread his thighs apart until he could fit Steve between them finally, took a second to think about how good Steve looked there. Those full lips were roaming over his skin like he was taking in a good meal, but then Steve’s eyes were on his and he couldn’t daydream anymore, needed to tell him. 

“Look good,” he said dumbly, sighing as he reached down to card a hand through Steve’s hair, trying to get the cowlick out of the way to no avail. “You gonna fuck me with those nice fingers of yours?”

Another one right at the top of the Steve Harrington Fantasy list. He didn’t have an actual, physical copy obviously, though he’d been stoned a few times and strongly considered it. Now he wondered if he’d get to cross most of them off for himself, rolled his hips down into Steve’s hand while his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

***

Steve grinned up at him, bracing his chin against the dip in Billy’s hip as he settled in between his legs, making himself at home. His head tipped back with the touch of Billy’s hand in his hair, in response to him running those fingers against his scalp, lashes lowering, eyes darkening. He maybe had a thing about his hair, and he liked Billy’s hands in it. He reached over to slap at the nightstand, searching half blind, but the bottle of lube was just on top of it – just a little bit emptier from Saturday night. He’d never really put it away. He pulled it back to ooze the liquid over his fingers – it was already warm, because the heat was up so damn high. He didn’t even have to warm it up with his hands. He wrapped one arm around Billy’s left thigh, thick and comforting next to his head, and pressed a kiss into the soft inner skin there. 

“Just ‘till you want more,” Steve agreed, smiling at him with his eyes as he leaned in to take Billy in his mouth. “Gotta tell me when.”

He’d never given head before. Obviously. So he hoped he’d do it alright, even if he he was probably going to be a sloppy beginner. But he’d been blown plenty of times (never from Nancy) and he knew what HE liked, so he’d try to imitate that. He started at the head and eased himself down the shaft, the completely foreign sensation of Billy’s cock heavy on his tongue, and he could already taste his pre-come – another new thing. Salty but at the same time sort of…he didn’t know. Steve couldn’t compare it to anything. He didn’t hate it. It seemed like something you acquired a taste for, and Steve hoped he’d get to do this enough times to do just that. 

He thought about how Billy had fingered himself open the other day, his breath picking up a little from nerves, the cock half in his mouth, and excitement. He slid the tip of his middle finger against Billy’s hole, still watching him before the angle became too difficult, trying to judge if he was doing this right. He felt like he was already drooling all over Billy, as the glands under his tongue produced way too much saliva. 

***

Billy tried to keep still, make sure his thighs were spread and loose, one hand gripping Steve’s probably ridiculously fucking expensive blankets. He was pretty positive Steve had no experience and he knew blowing someone was a little harrowing. He kept his hips still despite the urge to buck up, Steve’s hand making it easy to distract himself. 

“C’mon, hear my ass feels like heaven,” he said, giving his neck a break and letting it settle into the mattress with a sleepy smile. 

He didn’t know if Steve had a jealousy problem the way he did, the way it ate at him constantly. Not like it was always bad. Sometimes it got him even more than he’d wanted, like strong arming his way through this cow shit town and coming out with a barrage of rumors and a good handful of lackeys. It also spurred him do to a whole lot of shit so maybe, just maybe it’d work on Steve too. 

***

While Steve did his best at sucking Billy off and not gagging – holy shit that was actually kind of difficult – he hollowed his cheeks and slicked his tongue around the head, swirling it against the sensitive underside and get some actual suction going. He was thankful that Billy wasn’t bucking up into his mouth and was kind of baffled that Billy had actually wanted Steve to fuck his mouth the other day because holy shit this was actually like, a lot. 

But there was something, too, about the way he could feel Billy’s cock thrumming and throbbing in his mouth, twitching on occasion that made it worth it. 

He came off of him with a popping sound as Billy egged him on, blinking some of the tears in his eyes away, nose stinging a little as he slid his finger up from his ass, over his balls to idly stroke his cock, a slip ‘n slide of spit and lube, knowing it’d feel better than before when it’d been just shy of too dry. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve raised his brows up at Billy, actually a little curious to who had all of these opinions Billy had been informing him about since Saturday. Not jealous, persay – you couldn’t change the past, and what had happened, happened. He tended to be more jealous of the present – when someone was yours, and was making eyes at someone else, or vice versa. Yeah, he knew he had jealousy problems then. Jesus he was trying to be better than how he used to be.

“Says who?” Although he was teasing, his voice had gone husky, and the question was still there. 

Steve dropped his arm that had been wrapped around Billy's thigh to circle a finger around Billy’s hole, still a little baffled that something could actually make it’s way in there – it seemed too tight – just sliding the tip of his middle finger inside.

***

“Oh, l-ots of people,” Billy said, breath hitching when Steve’s hand settled back on his cock, slicker and easier this time. “Every guy at The Nail I ever got fucked by, some basketball team closet cases in Cali, few older guys when I was bored. Like heaven.”

He moved his hand from the bed, ghosting over the back of Steve’s head where his other hand was still stroking through sweaty brown hair. It moved up the side of one thigh next, fingertips brushing his ribs before he settled it above his head, gathering curls up and off of his neck. Steve’s room was like a fucking furnace, his whole body on fire with it. 

“Want more,” he sighed, the heat making his limbs feel loose and relaxed, maybe quicker than they would’ve any other time dead sober like this. 

***

Steve wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected the answer to be. Maybe not that. But then again – Cali was different. You heard a lot of shit about California. Steve tried to keep his face smooth, not to show his reaction, goosebumps rising up over his skin at the feeling of Billy’s fingers against his scalp. He slid the finger in further, up to the knuckle at Billy’s request, then slowly back out, in again – working Billy’s cock with one hand, his ass with the other, in time with each other. “Jesus, you’re tight.”

Sure, Steve’d been with a lot of girls. But they were all girls he knew – went to school with. Girls he’d known since he was a kid, because well, those were the only options he guessed. Small town and all that. But some guys in a bar? A basketball team? A few older guys? That sounded – Steve wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to shit all over anybody else’s lifestyle – he didn’t. But he knew what his dad would say, could hear it almost perfectly in the back of his mind. Wasn’t good. 

“What about – “ Steve breathed out, a little out of it from the heat and the sweat and working both of his arms. “ – boyfriends?” Billy liked him right? Was he usually with people in passing? Like basketball teams? And older guys? Was probably too early to even be thinking about that, but. 

***

Billy smiled, laughed down at Steve but not unkindly. Only Prince Charming his fucking self would be two knuckles deep in his ass and ask who he’d dated. His breath picked up at the dual sensations and he rocked his hips but wasn’t sure where to put them, either option depriving him of the other. 

He still smiled because it was a better reaction than the one right under the surface, the one that was actual fucking stark panic. If he thought any further about it he was going to lose it, go completely soft and tense up too much, wreck the moment. Still, for a second, he got a flash of wild locs and saw a brace on his wrist, heard fag and still ended up tensing just a bit. 

“Maybe not the,” he said, closing his eyes for a second to focus on rocking back into Steve’s finger, then forward into his hand. Trying to get the arousal to take prominence. “Best time.”

***

“Sorry, sorry yeah,” Steve pressed a kiss to Billy’s thigh, the back of his neck slicked in sweat as he knelt between those loose, languid legs. He had really shit timing sometimes. “Nona those guys are here though, huh? You’re just mine.” As Billy rutted up into his hand, and Steve got another finger inside of him, he started pressing in deeper, really starting to work him open like he’d seen Billy do to himself the other night. Stretching him.

“You look so good like this, spread out for me.” Spread out on his back, knees open, hips rocking up as Steve pulled him off in time with preparing him enough for Steve’s cock. It was seriously enough to fuel Steve’s jack off fantasies for months if not years. He was pressing in, pressing deep, and searching for the spot that Billy had liked before - but it was a lot more different this time around, trying to find it with the pads of his fingers instead of having it memorized with his cock. 

***

Billy heard just mine and, much to his fucking humiliation, completely melted. It wasn’t coming out of a gruff mouth looking for a quick fuck. It was coming out of Steve Harrington’s mouth while he worked him open, fingers curling just right. His hand tightened in Steve’s hair as white heat seized his muscles, his mouth falling open to let out one of the most lascivious sounds he’d ever made. And that was fucking saying something. 

“More,” he begged, a whole lot earlier than he’d planned to. Steve apparently had a thing for taking care of the people he slept with, felt like maybe he had a knack for looking after people. The quality didn’t feel forced or put on just for sex, not when Billy could remember Steve’s fingers barely ghosting over his eye, the way he’d sounded when he said okay. “Need it, need it now.”

***

At the sound coming out of Billy’s mouth, like, this sound that made Steve’s cock jump with anticipation – heavy between his legs as he knelt before Billy, working him open just right – Steve let out a breathy moan in response. He knew he’d found the right spot and he pulled out just a little and pressed into it again, a soft touch, crooking his fingers into the spot and watched Billy tremble. His scalp prickled as Billy fisted his hair.

Mesmerized.

His mouth hung open like he’d forgotten how to close it as he surged forward in response to Billy’s pleas – knowing full well that he’d told Billy to tell him when, and hell if this wasn’t that. Steve was eager to please, wanted to make Billy feel good, wanted to fill him up. Steve slid his fingers out from within Billy with a wet, nasty, inviting sound and poured more lube over his fingers until it dripped over the covers. 

He jumped a little, hips twitching when he touched his own cock, tinted red with blood flow and desire, a whimper in the back of his throat as he slicked himself up. He let go of Billy too, in favor of wrapping a hand around that wide thigh to guide muscled legs around his waist. He was close enough now that he could hover over Billy, close enough to brush their noses together. 

“Okay, baby – okay,” Steve murmured against his mouth, brushing a slightly clumsy kiss there as he focused on guiding himself to Billy’s hole. “Gonna make you feel good,” He sighed and started to ease forward.

***

Good was an understatement. A massive understatement. Billy nodded along, baby turning him boneless like it had the first time, steeling himself for some physical discomfort that didn’t actually come. Not the way he was expecting anyway. His hands wound their way up Steve’s back and dug in a little more as he pushed inside, breath picking up because yeah, Steve was fucking big. Except it was obvious that Steve knew that, had experience easing people into it. 

The thought shouldn’t have made envy curl up and make a home in his chest. This was to forget things, wasn’t it?

He sought Steve’s mouth out to try and do just that, blinking rapidly against the feeling of stretched and full, reminding his body that it was fine, that he liked it even. It still made him whine against Steve’s lips a few times even if it was a feeling he usually would’ve grit his teeth and bared. Steve wouldn’t mind, probably wouldn’t.

***

Steve liked the way Billy latched onto his back, right at his shoulder blades. Getting a good grip and letting Steve focus on filling him. Steve released his thigh when he was sure Billy was balanced, instead choosing to reach up and tangle his hand in Billy’s hair, all fingers and golden curls. Steve breathed through his nose as their mouths collided, his tongue carefully laving into the heat of that mouth – all soft and sweet – as he carefully nudged his cock forward into Billy. 

He took a second to let him adjust, pulled out just a little, then slid in just a little more, a little more – ease back, give him time, until the muscles started to unclench just a little…he’d been told he was fucking huge before, and he guessed he could see it, even in the locker room. Steve wasn’t even much of a grower, it was still pretty obvious even when he was soft, or whatever. He knew he was bigger than well – pretty much any guy on the team. It’s not like he had a big head about it (ha) or anything, but, it made sure that Steve was more careful. 

When he finally came to a stop at the hilt, bottoming out within Billy, he stopped completely. Feeling the tight muscles around him convulse, giving him time to adjust. His tongue licked along Billy’s lower lip, dark eyes big as he stared down at Billy’s, all long lashes. Breathing in the whine he could taste there.

“That okay?” He asked, one hand twisted into the comforter beneath Billy, the other soothing back his hair. 

***

Billy let his head move with Steve’s hand and didn’t answer for a minute, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. It was funny, a few pets to his head and some request for permission turning him into the sweet little thing he sometimes pretended to be. To get things from people, to goad a faceless man into action somewhere nice and dark. This didn’t feel like that, not even close, not like slipping into something less comfortable. 

“Uh huh, it’s okay,” he answered finally, his body seeming to agree with him, muscles going lax against the bed. 

When his eyes opened again Steve was still staring down at him, some look on his face he didn’t really understand. It was quiet and fond like the hand smoothing his hair back from his face, doting and careful too. A lump stuck itself in his throat and he knew it wasn’t something he could swallow down. 

***

Compared to the other night when they’d been drunk, Steve wanted to do it right. Didn’t want to hurt Billy, and didn’t want to rush anything. He smiled against Billy’s lips when he said it was okay, and he met Billy’s eyes when they opened once more, all brilliant ocean blue in the bright lights of Steve’s room. Every light bulb burning around them. Steve breathed against Billy’s mouth for a second, his lashes tilting down just a little as if he were examining Billy’s face, taking in each eyelash, each sun-freckle, the dip of his full lips and the peach fuzz of his barely-there moustache. Then back up to his those blueblueblue eyes.

“Jesus, how’d I get so lucky?” It sounded more like he was talking to himself than to Billy, voice barely more than a whisper. 

Then Steve started to move. He braced himself, knees digging into the comforter – which was actually so messed up now, it was actually more like in the sheets – thrusting only shallowly at first, building up to a steadier pace, moving like the tide within Billy’s body. 

Steve’s lashes fluttered as a soft moan stumbled out of his throat, because he’d been fighting the instinct to punch hips hips forward, and he could finally move, and even in the past few days – he’d forgotten how fucking good it felt to be inside of Billy. His skin lit up with the sensation, his hips shaking with pleasure, fisting a hand in the sheets. The hand that was at Billy’s hair braced instead at his hip to help reinforce and guide Steve’s movements.

***

Billy could remember what it had felt like the first time, even drunk and a little off his rocker from a shittt couple of days. It had absolutely nothing on this. He met each thrust once Steve started a rhythm, content to ride it out, suddenly sure Steve would get them to whatever point they needed to reach. He knew it wouldn’t take much, thighs unsteady at Steve’s sides for reasons that had nothing to do with exertion. 

Steve’s words brought that slow, honey-dipped feeling again. Everything that came out of his mouth like this did that to him apparently, made him sweet and easy, made him loud. Each little whine, every moan picked up in volume, more desperate than the one before it. His hands scrambled for purchase at the tops of Steve’s shoulders despite the slow pace because he was out of his fucking depth like this. 

What are you fucking doing to me was what he thought but didn’t say, though his face probably did, traitorous as it was. 

***

Billy’s sounds egged Steve on, let him know that Billy liked it. Steve filed the sounds away to remember later, drinking them up from Billy’s mouth like a man drinks water after being stranded in the desert. Steve rocked more deftly into Billy, bumping their foreheads time and time again, breathing hard as he kept up the momentum. 

His eyes closed, dropping his forehead, damp brown curls tickling at Billy’s cheek. Fighting for breath. He’d seen the look in those fire blue eyes, and he had no answer. Because he didn’t know what Billy was doing to him, either.

Steve felt overwhelmed, drowning in Billy – in all of the physical contact, in the sweet sounds he was making, and it felt like a waterfall crashing over his head – drowning out the rest of life, the rest of reality, erasing anything else that he might have been worried about. The temperature up to high. The lights too bright. 

He liked a lot of different versions of Billy – he’d seen many, but the one beneath him made him soft, made him sweet, made him feel a bit mad with it, because he knew, he knew that the Billy that so many people saw – Billy wasn’t really what anyone thought he was. Not really. 

And Steve had the real one beneath him. Steve was fucking gone for him. Layers stripped away as Steve filled him up, their skin going flush with the pounding sound of slick, begging more sounds from his mouth. Steve grunted with the effort of movement, with gasps of pleasure, and murmurs of Billy’s name. 

“Billy,” He’d sigh, “Billy…baby…”

And eventually, “not gonna make it – long,” - in between breaths. It was too sweet, too encompassing, too much. His toes were already curling behind him, fire building in his gut like slow embers catching flame. 

***

Billy was pretty good at over stimulating himself, always doing a few things at once to keep his head quiet. With this he just couldn’t keep up, too many new things happening at once for him to really focus on anything but how calm he actually felt. 

Steve was panting out fucking sweet nothings, saying baby like it was the most natural thing in the world. Gripping his hip in a way that felt more like he was just trying to keep a hold on him, make sure he didn’t go anywhere. His name coming out of Steve’s mouth was—he didn’t know, he didn’t know what to fucking do with it. That little, ugly thing he kept close in his chest was crawling its way out, his face twisting between confusion and pleasure when he felt his eyes well up. 

Steve giving him notice was all he really needed, sweaty hand slipping off of a broad, sweaty shoulder to move between them. He looked up at the ceiling as his hand moved over his cock because he didn’t know what his face was doing, why his eyes burned so fucking bad. In the end it felt like touching himself was mostly for show because it took barely three strokes for him to come, gasping for breath and tensing up like his orgasm was being torn right out of him. It felt like it was, like he was spilling himself out everywhere with nowhere at all to run. 

***

Steve shifted his angle to hit the spot that Billy liked, trying to catch it just right as he felt Billy’s hand go between them – the hand that Steve’d had in the sheets joined him, wrapping long, slender fingers around Billy’s hand, interlocking around Billy’s weeping cock to follow his movement. 

Then Steve was stuttering up at a faster, somewhat more urgent pace as he chased his pleasure, hips shaking and mind going blank as he felt Billy tense beneath him. It made his skin absolutely vibrate like he had electric wires caught beneath it like usual, but so much better this time than normal, for so many reasons. Steve tightened his hand around Billy’s between their bellies, pressing a sweat slick forehead against his cheek, puffing out hot breaths as he fought for air. Like he was running a marathon. It was dazzling for a moment, then fizzled out like a firework.

He blinked, fingers sticky and only just starting to go soft within Billy as he pulled his head up to grin down at him, goofy with that post orgasm high – his limbs like jello – when he stiffened slightly. Steve’s blissed out face fell away to be replaced by concern, fingers tightening around Billy’s, sticky with come. A line forming between furrowed brows.

“Hey, hey, woah – what’s the matter?” Steve swallowed, throat clicking, trying to get his brain to focus. “Did I – are you okay?” 

Steve let go of where he’d been leaving his handprint against Billy’s hipbone to touch at his cheek, where what he was sure were tears shone. He traced a fingertip there, lower lip cracking open with worry. “Did I hurt you? Your back, or -?” Down there? came the unspoken words.

***

The last time Billy could remember crying in front of anyone was a decade ago, standing around a bunch of adults at his mother’s—it had been a long time. Neil didn’t count because he never reacted to it, not unless it was to tell him to stop or leave in annoyance. Steve wasn’t doing either of those things. He was looking down at him with those puppy dog eyes all big and concerned and Billy wanted to smooth his frown out but his body wasn’t working. 

He nodded at the first question and shook his head at the second but he didn’t know if he’d answered it right, his brain like tv static. His face was just crumpling worse every second, eyes going wide and his hand finally working, shooting up to dig harshly into his bad eye when a tear or two worked their way out. 

It’s too much, this is too much. What’s happening to me? More things he thought but didn’t say, chin wobbling too much to talk, the moment ruined. 

***

Steve watched Billy’s face crumple like abused newspaper with big, confused eyes. Then he was shoving his palm into his hurt eye, which just had to hurt worse, and – even his chin was wobbling, like a little kid trying not to cry. Steve was mildly alarmed that he’d still done something wrong. He was really, really good at fucking things up. He was never good enough, always ruining things. But this time, he really wasn’t sure what he’d done. But maybe that part didn’t matter so much. He just didn’t want Billy to be upset.

Steve eased forward, wrapping one arm around Billy’s shoulders to brace his hand at the back of his neck, placing a soothing palm at his nape to ease over the bumps of his vertebrae. The other reached up to gently tug Billy’s hand away from his hurt eye, to press a kiss against the palm. 

He’d never seen Billy cry. Not even close. 

Pulling out of Billy (damn he forgot to put on a condom) – flaccid and loose against his own thigh, Steve rolled to the side, carefully easing Billy towards him.

He knew what it was like to cry and not to want to cry. Someone watching you sometimes made it worse. Steve pressed up against his battered back so that he wasn’t actually watching him cry. But he could still be there. As long as he was sure he wasn’t hurt, then this was something else. 

“It’s alright, you’re okay….” Steve murmured into the back of his neck, pressing a kiss there to the side of Billy’s long curls. He twined an arm around Billy’s stomach, tugging him up against Steve’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

***

“There was—somebody just once, somebody before we left. Max, I—she outed me, thought she was doing something good. My wrist got broken and we had to leave and I went to a party he was at the night before we were supposed to move. I fucking begged him to just run off with me with a brace on my hand and he just—he pretended he didn’t even know me, called me a faggot in front of all of our friends.”

Billy didn’t know what the fuck he was saying, only that he couldn’t stop. His voice was warping the longer he talked and he belatedly realized it was because he was crying, really truly crying and it was fucking with his throat. His hand was digging into the arm around his stomach and it was probably too hard but he couldn’t stop that either. 

“I fucking pick these pieces of shit, I always pick people who don’t give a shit, it’s—even in some dark place, it doesn’t matter. They don’t stop when you tell them to slow down and they shove you out of their car. I’m—fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m sorry.”

***

Steve tucked himself around Billy, the longer, ganglier of the two – his sweats still around his ankles, just like Billy’s jeans were still around his knees. He braced his hand against Billy’s belly, and tucked the other arm beneath him to essentially hug him from behind – clasping his hand over Billy’s. His chin braced against his shoulder, temple to ear as he listened to Billy, eyes wide and alert. 

He didn’t know a whole lot about Billy’s past, and tonight had been…enlightening. He’d told him about the other men. Guys in clubs, older men when Billy got bored, closeted jocks…and apparently somebody, once, that could have been someone to Billy. But chose not to. Called him ‘faggot.’ 

Steve wrapped both arms tighter around Billy, pressing his face into his neck. Trying to give him some of his warmth. 

He knew. He knew what it was to be with someone who didn’t give a shit, when things were bullshit, but that was different – he’d never been with somebody random that hadn’t cared for him. Even the girls he’d run through, he knew. And they had known his reputation, honestly, and he didn’t think they were looking for much else at the time either. This was different.

“…so that’s why you were so mad at her last year.” Steve said. “Why you moved from Cali?” Steve closed his eyes. He felt Billy shaking in his arms. Could feel silent sobs wracking his body as he latched onto Steve’s arm like an absolute lifeline. 

“Don’t be sorry. You can talk to me. I…I wish you hadn’t had to go through that. Any of it. You don’t deserve to be treated that way, not by anyone, ever. Nobody does.” Steve closed his eyes thinking of the way Billy said ‘They don’t stop when you tell them to slow down and they shove you out of their car.’ 

“Guys like that…they’re fucked up. You didn’t deserve that.” He repeated, hugging Billy tighter against his chest. “I meant it. When I said I like you. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

***

Billy was thankful to be faced the other way, though his body still bent forward, curled like a bow until his face was nearly touching the arm around his waist. He could see the tears running onto Steve’s skin until he needed to close his eyes, trying to get a deep breath in that just wouldn’t come. Part of him wanted to turn around just to see if there was any bullshit on Steve’s face, if he was just saying all of this to get something. 

Except Steve was telling him he was sorry for something he didn’t even do. He was holding onto him like it was the only thing keeping Billy from disappearing. He was saying I wouldn’t do that to you like it was easy. Billy shuddered through a finally, blissfully full breath, sniffing harshly as he curled up, pressing his face into the bed. 

He didn’t know what to say now that his mouth had run off without his permission, so many things he’d never considered saying to anyone. Exhaustion pulled heavily at him and he took another wet breath, thought of saying sorry again like it might make them both forget this happened. He settled on something else, tiny and simple and said before but he hoped it was enough. 

“Like you too.”

***

Steve waited, patient as he held Billy through it, nosing at his neck on occasion and running the edge of his thumb against Billy’s stomach. Trying to absorb the shocks of his shaking and muffled sobs – his back slowly curling as he bent with Billy until they were both closer to a fetal position, one against the other. When the worst of it seemed to have passed, Steve kissed the space just below his earlobe – no earring on this side – in response to Billy’s words. 

“I’m really glad you came to Hawkins.” That you’re here, with me. 

Steve didn’t know if stuff like that happened here. Maybe it did – in the shadows – and Steve was blissfully unaware. Maybe it didn’t. He didn’t really think it did. And he felt like Billy could be a lot more safe here, and not be tossed around by guys like the kind he must’ve found in Cali. Steve managed to get one of his hands wrapped up with one of Billy’s, fumbling a bit against his stomach, both of their fingers sticky.

“I might have lied, in the car - at the arcade.” Steve murmured against Billy’s ear. “Or at least maybe..under exaggerated. Sunday was really long. This whole week has felt long. Just wanted to spend more time with you. And if those guys didn’t understand that, well. They’re not worth it.” Not worth your tears. 

Steve’d been told before that sometimes he could be clingy. He really hoped he wasn’t coming across that way. He reminded himself that he wasn’t supposed to seem like he cared, but...he couldn’t help it. He did. 

***

“Probably didn’t expect more time to mean watch Billy cry like a baby for the first time since he was a kid,” Billy said into the sheets, a quiet grumble full of irritation at himself. 

That feeling was a little hard to hold on to though. Hard to stay angry with yourself with someone cradling you, creating two perfect commas on the most comfortable bed Billy had ever laid in. Even harder being talked to like he was then, like somebody worth a shit. 

He sniffed what felt like the last of the tears away and riddled with his watch, pulling it off his wrist. After setting it for 4 am he set it on the bed by his head, sighing heavily. 

“Have to leave in the middle of the night, can’t get caught.”

***

“”I uh.” Steve lay his cheek against Billy’s neck as he studied his obnoxiously plaid wallpaper, spine curled up around him like he was somehow keeping the world itself at bay. “I spent a long time. Pretending that things were fine, when, maybe they weren’t. I don’t want to do that anymore. Jus’ happy t’be with you, I guess…’n I’ll listen to anything you have to say. I’m just sorry anybody made you feel like this... it’s okay to cry. Doesn’t make you a baby.” Steve let out a barely-there laugh at the last sentence.

When Steve paused to think about it, he didn’t know when the last time was he cried, either. It had been a long time. He’d never really let himself cry over Nancy. Or the Upside Down shit. When he felt like crying, he just remembered his dad holding the side of his head and glaring down at him, telling him ‘Boys don’t cry. Men don’t cry, Steven.’ He sighed, glancing down at Billy’s digital watch on the bed. 

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea. I totally lost track last time. I don’t want you to get in trouble with your dad.” Not with a word like ‘maim.’

***

Billy nodded, definitely didn’t want that either. He reached back for a second and let his hand ghost over Steve’s cheek, his hair, whatever was in reach. Turning around would’ve been easier but he liked this too much, being held by the right kind of person. Not just because he had the right parts but because he seemed good, the kind Billy hadn’t been sure was real. 

Still wasn’t sure, but that was alright. This was enough for now. 

His hand dropped back to the bed and his eyes drifted and then stayed closed. His whole face was stuffed up and his eyes were sore, not to mention the rest of him, body wrecked by sex and stress. Something softer than that too, Steve’s arms tight around him, the quiet sounds of him dead to the world behind him. 

Waking up before the sun had risen was a fucking trip. At least his pants were technically still on. Steve’s whole room was still lit up like a Christmas tree and sweltering hot, some bizarre combination that made him feel both awake and unbelievably tempted to crawl back in with Steve. Maybe it was fucked up, but he had a hard time looking at him while he got dressed, freezing up when he realized Steve had come inside of him. 

In the grand scheme of sketchy hookups this didn’t really even make the list, but people like him were starting to drop like fucking flies. Well, that would be a conversation for another day. One soon, unfortunately. 

He used the front door to leave and didn’t take the time he wanted to to snoop, just locked the door from inside and crept into the Camaro, hoping for once his engine wasn’t so loud it would wake anyone up. The handful of minutes it took to get home and through the window were absolutely packed with Steve. Steve fucking him like he was some precious object. Steve telling him he wasn’t like other guys and somehow sounding earnest, asking about boyfriends while he was fingering him. Steve saying he was glad to have him there. 

Neil wasn’t poised on the other side of the window this time so he reveled in the quiet, in the decided lack of pain and panic. He had to officially wake up in an hour but somehow it didn’t seem that terrible, a small handful of sleep with Steve maybe enough. 

***

Steve needed to get some grocery shopping done – there was a reason why probably the best carbs he’d had to offer Billy was Saltines. There was nothing in the kitchen. He ate at the diner sometimes and he ordered out sometimes, like pizza, but it really only got him so far. He needed cereal or whatever, and that’s why his dad had given him a credit card. For the ‘essentials,’ when his parents were still out of town. 

Steve lazily pushed the shopping cart down Isle 2 of Bradley's Big Buy, popping a couple of things in the shopping cart that weren’t probably ‘essentials.’ He got the expensive cereal, the one he liked, the Wheaties. He was half leaned over the shopping cart handle, elbows braced on it like he was super bored, ‘cause god he hated going grocery shopping, it was maybe just the worst. It was so mundane. That was another vocab word. 

Steve sighed and watched the monotonous line of food items pass him by, occasionally throwing another box of cookies or whatever in the basket that he thought Dustin would like when he came over and raided Steve’s pantry again. 

Steve looped around to Isle 3 and started all over again. By the time he was almost at the end of the isle, he glanced up as someone else was walking around the isle to see if he needed to edge his cart out of the way. But when he caught sight of the familiar mullet, bitter mouth, and cloud of cheap cologne, Steve immediately perked up from where he’d slumped against the cart. 

He grabbed the handle properly and picked up his pace a little. 

“Hey!” He chirped. 

They hadn’t had practice after school today, which was halfway why Steve was here – he’d finally had the time. Maybe Billy too. Maybe Max was with him. Max rounded the corner shortly after her brother in a haze of red hair, and Steve’s eyes crinkled at the corner with pleasure at two of his favorite people brightening up his own personal hell of grocery shopping.

He was holding a box of frozen fish sticks, probably the most chipper he’d been after getting two nights of rest in a week – more than he’d gotten consecutively for the past couple months. 

Then another man came around the corner that Steve didn’t know, but he legitimately wasn’t paying attention – too focused on Billy and Max. “Max! Hey guys, what’s up?” 

The man slowed behind Billy and Max, shortly followed by a familiar red head that looked so much like a grown up Max – pushing a similar shopping cart along and worrying at her lip as she studied a slip of people with a list on it. She almost bumped the cart into the man behind as he stopped dead in the isle. 

“Who’s your friend, William?” the Man asked, voice slow, and Steve blinked, his smile faltering when it struck him, like slow horror, that this was Billy’s dad.

Steve froze, stomach dropping like he was on a roller coaster. Shit. Billy’s dad was a clean shaven man with a neat crew cut, a no-funny-business moustache that he probably waxed, and these cold flat eyes that Steve kind of thought looked like what a shark’s might look like. But then he got this big fuckin’ grin on his face. Like it looked really nice and friendly, but with a creeping feeling at the back of his neck, Steve realized it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes still looked dark. Dead. Like they were burning into his soul or something. This was the fucker?

“Oh dear, that’s Steve – he helps babysit Maxie’s little friends. He’s on the basketball team with Billy, remember?” Susan gave Steve a little off handed wave, before glancing back down at her list, obviously distracted. “Did we already grab the spaghetti sauce? I can’t remember…” 

“Uh, Hey Mrs. Hargrove…”

“Of course, how could I have forgotten?” Neil asked. Leaning forward, a small, broad hand outstretched. 

Steve stood there like an idiot for a second, his gaze flicking up toward Billy – at the bruises that were just starting to fade around his eye, going yellow, then down to the hand extended in front of him. 

Steve Harrington had been raised to have manners. He’d been taught to shake hands with a firm grip and looking the person directly in the eyes. He’d been told exactly how to say ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.’ But he didn’t. Steve stared, nostrils flaring. 

***

Billy had an iron stomach, partied a lot harder than most and a lot longer, too. He could stick his fingers in as many drug filled pies as he wanted and come out unscathed, pick a fight with the biggest motherfucker in the room and waste him. Almost nothing outwardly fazed him, expectations low and will to destroy very high. 

He was pretty sure he was about to puke from nerves all over the frozen food aisle. 

He kept his mouth shut because that’s how Neil liked it, even when he asked him questions sometimes. He watched in horror as Neil stuck his hand out to be shaken, watched Steve’s face pinch into WASP indifference. Neil’s good old boy smile was probably still on but he didn’t know, just watched the hand retreat and settle on his shoulder, his father’s thumb digging deliberately into a bruise. 

“Dad, can we get turkey pot pie? Please?” Max said, looking over her shoulder and smiling, sweet as shit and just as fake, dad laid on fucking thick and Billy knew it. 

***

Steve’s mouth pinched like he’d eaten something sour as he caught the way Billy’s dad’s hand lay on his shoulder, who looked like he’d stuck a fork in an electric socket and was trying to be cool about it. Steve indicated the fish sticks he was holding like it was some kind of an EXCUSE but it WASN’T, and he plastered on a smile. Maybe like he was a little bit SLOW like you know, people expected from him. 

Last thing he wanted was to make anything worse for Billy. Didn’t mean he was shaking hands with that fucker, though. He had a running idea about what those hands did. He kind of wanted to hit him instead. 

Billy’s old man studied Steve like he was a bug under a microscope, and Steve hoped the ‘just some dumb country hick’ routine worked. Shaking hands? What was that? And maybe it seemed to. Just to get out of those crosshairs, at least for now. He thought of the way Billy’d said he’d gotten caught before. They’d had to move.

“Yeah man woah, nice to meet you.” Steve said after a minute, choking on the lie. Playing dumb. “Wow yeah those turkey pot pies sure are good. Real good.” Making the dumbest small talk ever. Yeah. Thank god for Max.

Neil’s moustache twitched and he gave Max a short nod. He liked it when he called her dad, anyway, liked the family feel of it. Just the same way he expected Billy and her to call each other brother and sister, he expected to be called ‘dad.’ 

***

Billy knew it wasn’t Max’s fault. Well, it was and it wasn’t. She’d never apologized for landing them here and he didn’t really expect her to, too young to understand a fuck up of that magnitude, or that what Billy had been doing wasn’t wrong. Sometimes he wondered if it was, if anything good could make so much terrible shit happened. 

So, it wasn’t her fault. That didn’t do much to stop the way his stomach twisted, watching Neil steer her and Susan down the aisle, Billy like something they’d purposefully left behind. Not her fault but he still hated her for it, didn’t know if he could help it. He tried his best to just look bored, easier said than done when he looked at Steve. 

“Later,” he said, a throwaway goodbye, only he didn’t mean it like that. He couldn’t afford any other kind of acknowledgement so he just shouldered past, trailing after the other three and wondering why it was so important they do all of this mundane shit together. Especially when Billy stuck out like a sore thumb. 

***

Steve rubbed his mouth as they walked away, watching Billy with a low feeling in his stomach. He nodded a little as Billy brushed by. “Yeah, later…” 

He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder as they went their separate ways and managed to not look at his ass with his dad just down the isle. He didn’t slump over the cart again because he was worried he’d look stupid and went on to the next isle, worrying at his lip. He got all the shit he needed and then got in line, anxious for some reason. He’d kept expecting to pop into them again with another awkward encounter in another lane, but it hadn’t happened. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d wanted it to. He wanted to see Billy, but definitely didn’t want to see his dad again. By the time Steve had used his daddy’s credit card and filled up the shopping bags in the cart, (Old Mrs. Marge took forever ringing him up like usual but he still liked her a whole lot and she wanted to chat about the weather) he was wheeling outside through the sliding doors, still low key watching for Billy out of the corner of one eye. Couldn’t help it, he guessed. 

***

Billy wandered the aisles with Max, their shoulders bumping in commiseration while Susan fussed about budget and Neil pretended like everything was fine. Big man around, nothing to worry about, like they weren’t totally piss poor and essentially designated to generic packaging. 

“Dad, can—“

His question in the store was halted by a stiff hand over Neil’s shoulder, like something as mundane as grocery shopping was more important than his own son speaking. Billy fought the urge to roll his eyes and spared Max a glance, watching as she moved forward in their little makeshift line to make gooey eyes at her stepfather. Almost like she knew Billy wanted to ask for something. 

He tried again before they parted ways; Susan and Neil home and Billy and Max to the arcade. He cleared his throat and made sure his spine was ramrod straight as he approached Neil, waiting for him to finish loading the last grocery bag, the driver’s door of the truck pulled open. 

“Dad, could I go out this weekend? Tommy and the guys are hanging out Friday and then Saturday too,” he said, making eye contact even if it was the last thing he’d ever like to do. “Homework’s done and—I’ll still take Max wherever.”

***

Neil turned to look at Billy like he was a disappointment. Like like that was unusual. Neil had never had a greater disappointment in perhaps his entire life. He sighed at Billy, thought he’d made it pretty clear that he wasn’t in the mood to take requests – but that was the thing about William. He never could listen. 

He waited for the opposite door of the truck to slam closed as Susan crawled inside, Max still on the other side of the big Ford – talking to her mom through the open window, even in the middle of February. Chattering on about that arcade she liked so well. 

Neil Hargrove glanced around the parking lot – once – surreptitiously, before narrowing his eyes at Billy, taking a step away from the truck – towards his son – edging him against the good, old fashioned, heavy steel siding. Nothing like this plastic shit that they were starting to tote in newer cars. This was a real man’s vehicle. 

“Friday and Saturday? Overnight? You got some whores paid for the weekend, or what? The last thing you need to be doing is knocking up some girl. ” 

He rested a hand over BIlly’s shoulder, curling his fingers into the leather of his jacket just so. Pressing him back against the truck like they were just having a friendly conversation. He pursed his lips tight, those sharp eyes searching William’s for some hint of deception.

***

Billy’s posture went loose in a split second, from tense to pliant. His shoulders were up a bit and he felt about an inch tall and that was still too fucking tall for Neil, he knew it. His eyes drifted to the side of Neil’s face because he was starting to get too close, the kind that clammed him up and made him sweat. 

“No, sir,” he said, licking his lips, eyes bouncing slowly back and forth. The tiniest look at his father’s dark eyes and then back to his cheek instead, business trick he’d remembered Neil saying once. “Just hanging out, that’s all. I don’t have anything else to do this weekend so I just thought—it’s just the weekend.”

He didn’t want to see Tommy or Carol or any of the other people who liked hanging on his arm. What he wanted was Steve’s big, warm house. Maybe trying to get him to say a few more nice things, push him down into something again. His face didn’t say that though, or he hoped so. It said no funny business, it said Leave It to Fucking Beaver even if the expression felt wrong, like he was dragging mud all over the place. 

***

Neil’s gaze continued to shift back and forth from one of Billy’s eyes to the other. Like he was fucking digging for something. “You lying to me? You know I don’t care for it when you lie. We’ve talked about this, son.” He tightened his fingers against Billy’s jacket. Susan was waiting in the car. Time was short. “Neil?” Came her call. 

Steve was at the Beamer and carefully placing plastic bags of groceries in the trunk , nestled in the netting so that they wouldn’t slide around. He felt something prickle at the back of his neck, like a breeze, or like a feeling – he turned around, squinting in the late afternoon sunlight, keys jangling in one hand. He went still. Eyes going big. He didn’t know the truck, even if the California license plate stuck out like a sore thumb in Indiana. But he went still. 

Max was on one side of the truck, bouncing on her toes and clearly yammering away something to somebody in the passenger side – oblivious – while on the drivers side Billy was pressed up against the side by his dad – Neil – who had one hand fisted into his jacket. Even from the distance, Steve could tell he was saying something. Then he thumped Billy’s back against the rear panel – Steve watched the back of Billy’s skull bounce off the steel, as if in slow motion. Neil grabbing at his chin, fingers digging into cheeks. Shock spread like fire across Steve’s scalp, like having a bucket of lava dumped over him. 

He dropped the last bag on the asphalt with a ‘thonk’, sending cans of raviolis rolling. Trunk hanging open. He was walking across the parking lot before he could think, before he could even process what was happening. Hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Hey ASSHOLE!” Steve yelled, and he knew he was making his crazy eyes but he couldn’t fucking help it. In a place like Hawkins you didn’t yell like that. You didn’t make a scene. You did that and everybody would know about it in 20 seconds, flat. Ms. Prewitt at her car glanced up, scandalized, like ‘What, me?’

***

Billy’s breathing narrowed down to the size of a pin and suddenly it felt like he was breathing through a straw. One second he was registering an ache at the back of his head, the familiar feeling of Neil’s hand on his face. It was par for the course, made it easier for Neil to see when he was lying—if he was doing it poorly. 

Then Steve. 

Steve like some ball of righteous anger, yelling at Neil in a fucking parking lot. It got Susan and Max’s attention immediately. He could feel their eyes on him, Max’s head poking out behind the back of the truck to get a better look. He couldn’t see her face but he didn’t want to, not when he was so stuck looking at Steve’s. 

“S’alright, just slipped,” he said evenly and loudly, smiling thinly over his shoulder at Susan, catching her eye through the driver’s side window. Not snitching, don’t panic. Then he looked at Neil, his smile calm even though he was fucking dying, his skin was melting right off his bones. “Accident, I’m fine, you’re right. I’ll stay home, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

***

Neil’s face, already dark as a thundercloud, darkened further for only a moment as he zeroed in on the direction of the yelling. Then he saw that moronic boy from the supermarket heading across the parking lot, making a beeline for the truck. 

Steve watched as that dangerous face smoothed out and got an easy-going look about it, that Howdy-Doody with shark eyes look. There was even a dash of concern for flavoring, brushing off Billy’s shoulder like he’d gotten some sort of dust on it. Dragging at his jacket like he was trying to get him steady on his feet.

“You alright, son?” He asked. “You need to be more careful, William.” 

Steve felt like he was having some kind of a fit. 

“Acci -?” He knew what he’d fucking seen, shit! “Bullshit, that wasn’t an accident?!” Steve finally got to them.

“Just a slip, young man.” Neil said firmly. “You’d best learn to watch your tone. I’d expect more manners from a Hawkins boy.” 

“Jesus Christ, I’m not BLIND, I know what I saw – christ, I told him I thought he’d been dropped too much as a kid, but I didn’t know - what the hell is wrong with you?” He was gesturing wildly with his hands.

He wanted to get his hands on Billy – to pull him away – but Neil was standing between him and his goal. Steve set his jaw and jutted his chin out, glaring the fucker down - getting a gleaming sense of satisfaction that he was taller than him He only glanced once at the only other adult in this situation for some sort of – he didn’t know – reaction? Support? But Susan was just watching him from inside of the truck window like she a deer in headlights. She didn’t even move. 

And Billy was just muttering apologies, tail tucked between his legs, and it was like Steve’d stumbled into the twilight zone because Max and Mrs. Hargrove were looking at him like he was nuts - and Billy never acted like this. Never. He was usually Mr. Confidence, running his damn mouth 24/7. 

***

“Harrington, what is it with you? Are you so bored you have to stir shit up for fun? Jealous I’m knocking you off the team?” Billy spit, thinking I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry with every sentence. Thought it again when he matched his father’s expression, the good old Hargrove look of disinterest, disgust. “You start partying early or something? Jesus.”

It was fucked up to hope Neil was proud of him then, he knew that. Knew his wires were more than crossed, the sting of Neil’s fingers digging into his jaw still fresh in his mind. Sometimes, though not for a while, he’d imagined things like this. Running to the other side of the confrontation for once, pointing at his father and saying he did do this, he does it all the time. He could practically see the moment slipping away and just tried to keep himself alive instead, relatively unharmed as he looked at Neil again. 

“I’ll get Max out of here, take her to the arcade and wait there,” he said dutifully, hopefully up to Neil’s rigid standards for posture again, hands loose at his sides. “I’m sorry again, sir. I can detail the Ford when I get home if you want, I know it’s been a while.”

***

Steve’s nostrils flared, hands still rolled up at his sides as he stared at Billy wide eyed, chest rising and falling with disbelief. What the fuck was happening? He – he guessed he knew that a lot of parents smacked their kids around a lot, even if it had never happened to him. People didn’t really care much, he guessed. They could discipline their kids however they wanted. But was completely fucking different to maybe slap your kids around a little to – to making Billy’s back look like he’d gotten hit by a bus. To breaking his eye enough to see broken blood vessels.

Steve’s tongue felt tied up in his mouth because he couldn’t fucking think of what to say BACK to that. He’d curled up around Billy for half an hour the other night while he’d cried. They – he – Steve got a kicked puppy look for only a second, which was slowly replaced with looking pretty pissed, or shocked, blinking wildly. 

Steve just stared at him like he was on fucking drugs. Simpering and falling all over himself. I can detail the Ford when I get home if you want? I know it’s been a while? “Uh yeah, probably because your head just left a goddamn dent in it?” Steve snapped. Who the fuck was that talking out of Billy’s mouth? Steve was way too pissed to think about how he himself did that with his own dad...all the time.

Then he realized Neil was stepping towards him.  
Steve snapped his attention to the much more dangerous viper in the room. He looked fucking bored, his eyebrows set across his brow-bone, his thin mouth an even straighter line. Like Steve was a small bug to be squashed – an annoyance, but easily gotten rid of. 

“Now look. I don’t know what’s the matter with you, boy – but you’re going to stop this, now, you hear me? Or I’ll be calling the cops, and I don’t think you want to deal with that. Do you.”

Steve almost laughed in his face. Fucking yes call them. Oh please, baby Jesus do it. Instead he said, “I think you’re probably the one that doesn’t want that,” jaw working around each word, with each word a challenge. “So go ahead.” 

“You clearly need some help. I’ll be informing the school to notify your parents.” Neil’s voice was low and steady. Unfazed.

Neil turned away from Steve, nodding tightly at Billy. “Go. Take your sister. I don’t expect her to be around some queer babysitter anymore, you got that?”

Steve breathed in sharply as Susan studiously ignored him, busying herself with her purse. 

“It’s not fucking right.” Steve said. 

“You watch your language around my daughter. I don’t expect to see you around Maxine again. Are we clear?” 

Steve threw one last look at Billy and Max and he wanted to fucking hit something and he wanted to take Billy away and he kept seeing the way his skull rebounded off the side of the truck, and – Steve’s eyes flashed at Neil. Twisting on his heel, throwing up the collar on his jacket against the wind. 

“Crystal.” 

***

Billy didn’t say anything to Neil, not surprised he didn’t care about a damn thing that came out of Billy’s mouth. He didn’t say anything to any of them, just slipped his body past the truck, walking as calmly as he could to the Camaro. Constants. Driving was a constant. Driving Max to the arcade was a constant. 

If his hands were shaking when he put the key in the ignition and shifted gears Max didn’t say anything. She seemed to think not talking was a good idea too, on the way there at least. When he parked across his usual two spots he could see her turn to him in his periphery, big, sad blue eyes on him. 

“Billy, did Neil—“

“Out.”

“Billy—“

“Get the fuck out of here.”

His tone was too quick, too harsh. He’d fucked up and he knew it but it was too late, Max’s jaw setting the way he’d probably taught her, the door slamming before she disappeared. Then it was sort of like putting on a well worn coat, everything like usual, didn’t even have to think about it. 

He turned the car back on and cranked the stereo, rolling the windows up all the way. Fucked with the tape, rewound it until Hit the Lights came on, guitar and drums and loudloudloud filling the car completely. He dug his elbows into the bottom of the steering wheel, head tipped forward until he could rest his face in his forearms.

Queer babysitter. What the hell is wrong with you? Harrington, what is it with you? Accident, just slipped. 

He took in a gulp of breath and screamed as hard as he could, fingers in a white knuckled grip at the top of the wheel. He screamed until his forehead felt like it was cracking, until he could practically feel his blood vessels telling him to stop. It’s not fucking right. 

***

Steve’d almost decked the guy. He wasn’t going to think about it. Hit Billy’s dad? Maybe the guy deserved it. Maybe he’d wipe the floor with Steve. Steve didn’t care. If Steve saw him hurt Billy again, he’d do it – he’d have to. Honestly if Billy hadn’t been there basically telling him to back off by being a total asshole and acting like everything was fine, if it hadn’t shocked Steve into that whole twilight zone episode where apparently STEVE was the crazy one, maybe he’d still have tried. He was reckless like that sometimes, he knew that. Like when he’d pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed Jonathan without knowing he was a rabid fucking dog in a fight. 

Steve would stand up for his friends, and he would stand up for his kids, and he would stand up for Billy Hargrove.

Steve slammed his trunk so hard it hurt his elbows , and kicked a can of Ravioli that hit the post box before he took off. It took him until he was half way across town to feel bad realizing that he’d littered and left the cans there. Maybe somebody would find them and eat them, even if Steve had kicked one. Steve swung by the house first to put his groceries away, mostly just the refrigerated and frozen stuff. He slammed the fridge door closed, and he didn’t take off his sneakers, and he grabbed a pillow to stuff his face into it and scream into the 100% Egyptian Cotton like somehow it would HELP.

But he was already running late and half the groceries were still on the counter when he left the house. He was supposed to hang out at The Palace with the guys – the guys being the kids – ‘queer babysitter’ rattling around in his fucking brain as he turned his music up way louder than normal to drown it out. Chain smoked three cigarettes between way over in Loch Nora and Main, but even that didn’t help. He was hoping Billy might be gone by the time he got to the arcade. No such luck. Steve just…he didn’t feel like he could – face him right now.

That cold look on Billy’s face like Steve was a fucking imbecile, like he was dirt, like he was bullshit, like he was an idiot, he – he couldn’t get that out of his head. Or the tone of Billy’s voice, the way he spoke to him. And Jesus, it’s not like it should be a thing. That was how Billy’d been talking to him for months, basically since he rolled into town in that fucking Camaro. It shouldn’t surprise him. Steve threw the Beamer into park, killed the engine. He sat for a minute, eyes closed as he finished his smoke in absolute silence, then finally climbed out. He snuffed it out beneath his shoe as he shoved his hands in his pockets, head down, and started towards the arcade. Carefully not looking at the Camaro. 

If he talked to Billy right now, Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to shut up, and things – things probably wouldn’t end very well. Because Steve knew what he saw, and he knew what those marks were, and Steve had said ‘okay’ when he’d known Billy was lying to him, wouldn’t push him on it, but it, it was an entirely different thing to see Billy hurt in front of his own eyes. It made it more real, somehow. It was the truth. Steve was being fucking gaslighted. And it pissed him off. He made it to the neon lights of the Arcade – it was already getting dark, ‘cause it got dark early this time of year – and swung inside to the glow of screens and rattle of quarters.

***

Steve had to have seen him, had to have seen the Camaro parked in front of the arcade. Billy didn’t know what to do. He didn’t really have a plan for shit like this. He didn’t know how to say I wanted Neil to be happy with me. So he just watched Steve walk past him and inside, didn’t look at the tantalizing line of his legs because it felt like he didn’t get to do that anymore. 

He screamed through two more songs for good measure and climbed out of the car, sitting on the hood and pulling out a cigarette. The sky was one big, black void above him, begging him to just dive the fuck in. He looked up at it and felt almost mournful that he couldn’t, the sound of the doors to the arcade busting open filling his ears, followed by the sounds of voices he recognized. 

“Max, bring your boy toy over here,” he called, not looking at Steve because he wasn’t allowed to do that now either, maybe. 

Max frowned but seemed to recognize something on Billy’s face because he watched hers change, more like it had been lately. Neutral, almost—sympathetic, or something. She pulled at Lucas’s arm until he finally gave in, shuffling with her up to the Camaro, his eyes steely on Billy. 

“My old man’s a bigot,” Billy said in a low tone, leaning forward from where he was sitting. “He can’t catch you two, you understand me? It won’t be good for either of you, especially not you, Sinclair. Thought scaring you out of it might work, that was fucked up, shouldn’t have done it. Just—both of you be careful. Very careful, alright?”

Max and Lucas seemed to be warring with the concept, Max clearly more puzzled by it than Lucas. Billy could still remember Wiley, before he’d shoved him, called him a faggot. He could remember the words Neil had used to describe him even when he thought they were just friends. Remembered the things he’d said he would do. Lucas was too young to have to face people like Neil. No one should’ve had to. He didn’t want to be Neil, didn’t want to hammer do you understand me into them, but he needed to know. 

“Got it?”

“Yeah, man, got it,” Lucas said finally, eyes narrowed like he was trying to suss Billy out. Apparently he found what he was looking for because he gave Max a kiss on the cheek and left, though not before nodding at Billy. Something like understanding. It would do. 

He watched him go towards the Beemer for a second before sliding off the hood, blank faced at Max’s shock, the way he could almost hear her thoughts swirling. She stared at him the entire ride home but said nothing. His hands were still shaking a little and she might’ve noticed, might’ve tasted the lightning in the air. When he parked in the driveway she stayed quiet but didn’t leave the car either, her hand coming to rest on his forearm carefully. The one he’d been screaming into all night. 

***

It was Saturday. Steve was sitting on his living room floor next to the fireplace and the big, wooden television set watching Saturday morning cartoons. The fire was going because it was cold as shit and it had snowed overnight, and Steve was leaching off the warmth. Glad he didn’t have to go anywhere, because he hadn’t fucking fallen asleep until like six, and even then, he’d only gotten about three hours of sleep. He was tired.

He leaned against the brick, bench-like hearth with some pillows shoved against it and ate the new Wheaties he bought at the store, slurping milk, in nothing but his boxers and an oversized, baggy Harvard sweatshirt his dad got him a few years back. Like it would be some kind of incentive. His hair was all over the place since he hadn’t showered yet, and he was still half asleep as he watched The Pink Panther. It was a pretty damn good distraction from you know, actually thinking thoughts. 

***

Billy didn’t really know how long he’d been standing at the imposing red door to Steve’s house, hadn’t checked his watch but knew it was a while. Chauffeuring Max and doing housework was finished with until Sunday, detailing Neil’s truck the last thing on his list. Turns out his head had left a tiny dent, one he popped back out himself, a little fucked up over the pride that bubbled up in him when he looked at it. Good as new. 

Apparently his public groveling had settled something in Neil because he sent him off with the rest of the day free, told him to just be back for dinner on Sunday. Even clapped him on the shoulder, nice and easy compared to the way his hands usual fell. Wires crossed, that’s all it was. He’d tried to fix them, talking to Lucas, but it wasn’t enough. 

So he was here, hand poised over the doorbell for god knows how fucking long, thinking maybe he could—he didn’t really know. He rang it anyway, hoped he’d figure it out by the time Steve answered. 

If he did at all. 

***

Steve wasn’t expecting the bell. If it was that fucking Hoover Vacuum sales guy that kept coming by Steve was gonna punt him into the fucking sky. He wasn’t expecting anybody else, and the kids had all just been here last night, so there was nothing they could possibly have to say that they hadn’t said last night. At least, Steve figured not. 

They always talked a mile a minute. He got up with the cereal bowl in one hand, rubbing at one eye as the saxophone music played while The Pink Panther followed some clues or another. He got to the red doors of the house and didn’t really care if the Hoover Vacuum sales guy – he thought his name might be Eric – saw him in his boxers or not. Maybe it would finally scare him away. 

Steve was opening the door, saying “Look as much as I love our quality time, I don’t want a fucking vacuum man, how many times we gotta do this – oh.“ 

Steve went still, bowl in one hand, the other holding the door open - he hadn’t expected it to be Billy. If anything, he’d kind of suspected Billy wouldn’t want to talk to him. Maybe ever. He’d been carefully not thinking about it since he woke up. He’d thought about it too much last night, in detail, and it just kept getting him worked up. It’d been half of what kept him up. So at the moment he was watching cartoons and pretending everything was fine - falling into bad fucking habits. And even that had just come crashing down over his head.

***

“I didn’t want Neil connecting us, I—it wasn’t real, what I said,” Billy blurted out, momentarily distracted by the sight of Steve’s bare legs. He had to remind himself that this might not go so well, that he needed to make it count. “I didn’t want you to get thrown into this shit, it’s just...easier. It’s easier like that. I didn’t mean it, I know I fucked up. I came by yesterday but the—so I’m here. Now. I know I’m a fuck up but I just wanted to tell you.”

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself after all the word vomit, felt a little sick about it. Something about Steve turned him into a fucking mess that couldn’t string a sentence together, wrung out and confused and thinking about why exactly he was such a piece of shit all the time. It was disorienting, to say the fucking least. 

***

Steve stood at the brunt end of the word vomit that was instantly launched at him, blinking a little because – again – still half asleep. But he nodded a little, to show he’d heard, before frowning at Billy – frowned at a pink nose and pink fingers and a jacket that was absolutely not meant for a foot of snow on the ground. Steve was already breaking out in goosebumps over his bare legs just from the blast of February winter air, shivering. 

“I – how long have you been out there?” Steve asked, glancing around to see if the Camaro was there – Steve didn’t think it did good in the snow. “Look, don’t…don’t stand out there in the cold. Come in.” Steve jerked his head back, waving Billy in with it as he held the door open wider, stepping to the side, and pulling the cereal bowl against his chest. He needed a second to process everything Billy had just said, running the words over in his head, looking away into the entryway. 

***

Billy kicked his boots against the doorframe and stepped in cautiously, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he moved aside for Steve to close the door. He’d never quite gotten a good look at this part of the house, thought it was sort of sterile. Definitely not warm like Steve was and definitely imposing. 

He looked down and found himself wanting; leftover snow melting off of his boots, ripped jeans, a well loved jacket. He was sullying up the place and he knew it. Poisoning the well is what Neil would say sometimes, nobody there to ever say any different so how the fuck was he supposed to know?

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever seen talk to Neil like that.”

***

Steve held the bowl in both hands once the door was closed, and leaned back against it, sort of hoping that Billy would remember to take his snowy boots off from before, because damn he hated having to tell people to take their shoes off. It made him sound like his mom when he did that. Steve looked down into his Wheaties, which were getting soggy and sorta gross. 

‘Didn’t want Neil connecting us – it wasn’t real – didn’t want you to get thrown into this shit. Easier. It’s easier like that. Didn’t mean it. Fucked up. I know I’m a fuck up.’ 

Steve made sad eyes down at his cereal like it was alphabet soup, spelling out the words Billy’d spewed out like poison. 

He was so fucking tempted to ask if they could not talk about this. So tempted. To stick his head in the damn sand like he liked so much.

But just the other night he’d told Billy he could talk to him about anything – that Steve wasn’t going to always try to pretend anymore. And if he said that now, if he swept it under the rug and said everything was fine, what kind of man did that make Steve? Because of the two of them, it seemed like Billy was the one pretending like it wasn’t happening.

“Yeah. Well…” Steve huffed. “Maybe he needs to be talked to like that more.” Preferably by Hopper. “You’re not a fuck up, Billy. It wasn’t even your fault, and I guess I – I knew that you were just covering, but. I mean I do that, too, when my dad’s pissed or whatever, try to…get him to…but Billy, he hurt you. I saw it. I don’t care if it’s easier or not, I - It wasn’t an accident. You didn’t slip.” Steve’s gaze rose up to Billy now, large and quiet and intense. Looking for a confirmation. 

If Billy said it was an accident again – if he gaslighted Steve even now, when there was no one else to hear. Well. 

***

“I didn’t. But it wasn’t that bad, it just looked bad. There isn’t a bump or anything.”

The truth, no prying eyes or Neil’s hand on his shoulder to remind him no snitching. Billy wasn’t sure it was making him feel any better but Steve was looking at him with those big eyes, searching, and he couldn’t lie a second time. 

“I just—y’know, Neil was in the army for like two fucking decades, you know? So he’s got a heavy hand. I run my mouth a lot so he—I’m really not supposed to talk about this shit. It was my fault this time, I asked if I could go out this weekend and I knew he wasn’t in a great mood.”

Every word felt a little thinner than the last, things Billy thought only the wives on the domestic abuse pamphlets fucking said. Ran into the door, tripped down some stairs. Except it was because of something he did, it couldn’t really be debated. He glanced down at his shoes and edged an inch closer to the door, bizarrely worried about dirtying the spotless wood flooring. 

***

Steve just kind of stared at him. And really the longer Billy kept talking, the wider Steve’s eyes got, the more his mouth thinned and the more he just couldn’t actually believe what he was hearing. He was legitimately trying to connect the dots, to tie some kind of a line back to the swaggering, confident, bright smiling boy that had been waggling his tongue at Steve for months. 

Steve had known something was going on. He’d known that something was going on especially since that night – when he’d known that there was no real logical explanation that could have driven Billy into that kind of a frenzy just because he had to retrieve Max. And when Billy had apologized the other night, he’d said it hadn’t been Steve that he’d been hitting. 

But every word out of Billy’s mouth just made Steve’s stomach slip somewhere farther towards the ground, gravity claiming it. Like he really sounded like, like those women who got knocked around and had to go to shelters and stuff but always said it was THEIR fault. 

“That – I mean, I don’t…I don’t understand why you’re making these excuses for him. Just because he was in the army doesn’t give him the excuse of being a shitty dad and hurting his son. I don’t think that’s a thing they teach you in basic training. My grandpa was in the war too - the big one - and he never hurt my dad. Or me. He didn’t particularly LIKE my dad, but nobody does. My gramps said there were guys like that that he knew, though. Guys that when they were over there, they liked it too much. That they brought it back with them. It doesn’t make him a good man. It makes him a bad one.” 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, cereal still in the other hand. “You run your mouth? Asked if you could go out this weekend…?” 

Did Billy even hear himself? Did he? Steve didn’t know. It seemed like he just thought it was normal. He must.

“Those are normal things, Billy. They shouldn’t make him react like that. Maybe it wasn’t that bad this time, but what about your back? My first thought was that you were hit by a car. And I’ve seen it before, in the showers. At practice. There’s something wrong with what he’s doing.” He moved the bowl to the side with a hand movement, milk sloshing. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your dad, and maybe it’s not my place or whatever, but somebody should say it. You need to hear it.” 

***

Billy fucking hated the hair trigger he had, the defensiveness that reared up and made his stomach sour. It swirled in his gut and made his hackles raise, shoulders hunching with how uncomfortable Steve’s words were making him. His claws came right out, only this time they weren’t digging into the right person. 

“No I don’t, this is—he’s not a fucking bad guy, he’s my dad. He’s my fucking dad and it’s not his fault I fuck up all the time. It’s not—everybody knows I’m a mean piece of shit. I elbow my way into everything and make a fucking mess and I can’t remember shit I’m supposed to do. I make it hard for people, I make it impossible but he’s still got me under his roof.”

He was spitting mad, fingers curling into fists but not to hurt, not Steve anyway. He tried to focus on the sting of his nails into his palm, pushed in a little harder. 

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. What, you gonna fucking tattle? I’m out of there in six fucking months anyway, I’ll be eighteen. It’s a little late for somebody to be concerned and tell me shit I need to hear.”

***

Steve could feel things ramping up. Could feel both of them escalating, and he didn’t know how to fucking stop it. It’s why he’d walked by the Camaro last night. It’s why he’d been up until six am. It’s why he’d been watching cartoons this morning. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his fucking mouth shut. He’d known there’d be a fight. Known it in his bones.

“Trust me. Dads can be bad guys. I can fucking tell you they can be. If you fuck up, that doesn’t mean you get popped one, that means they’re supposed to try and help you through it. You’re not a mean piece of shit, you – “ 

Steve’s mouth twitched as he had some kind of weird brain spasm. He was visualizing the way Billy grabbed at Lucas’ collar, shoved him back against the bookcase. Saw the way Neil grabbed Billy’s jacket collar, shoved him back against the truck. He didn’t even know how to translate that into words. He kept going. 

“We’re teenagers. We make messes. That’s part of our job or whatever! I can’t remember anything either, and…I don’t see how you make it hard? You’re fucking smart, you get the best grades in our class, you’re the new captain of the team, people love you. You’re probably going to Stanford or someplace. Everybody loves you. Max even told me that you clean house more than her mom sometimes! What could he possibly have to be so pissed about? He should be proud of you?! I’ve never seen anyone try as hard as you. At anything.”

Steve made things hard. He couldn’t even fucking read to save his life, he hadn’t gotten into any of the colleges he’d applied to, and he wasn’t really moderately good at anything else. He was a consistent disappointment to his parents, but mostly his dad. But it mostly just earned him disinterest, he’d never been hit. Maybe he wasn’t the right one to spout good-dad ethics, but he’d had his grandpa. And he’d seen what it could be, back when he was a kid and his gramps would watch him all the time when his parents were away. Steve knew what it was to be a good man, because his grandpa had shown him how. 

Steve’d seen Billy spitting mad before, and really it hadn’t ended well for him. Could see him getting mean. Realistically he knew he should be reading the warning signs, hear the alarm bells, but he didn’t pay them any heed. He kept pushing. Typical of him. Just kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Worrying at shit like a dog with a bone.

“Well it’s better late than never! What’re you gonna do? Just move away and just keep, just keep thinking this shit about yourself?!”

***

“Fuck you, you—he wouldn’t do the shit he does if I wasn’t fucking it all up. It’s not that hard to fucking understand. What’s wrong with you? Why do you even give a shit?” 

Billy felt angrier than he had in, well, a while. Months. But it wasn’t at Steve, worse because he didn’t know who it was at. Maybe himself for not understanding what Steve was talking about, for poking holes into every word he said mercilessly. He was starting to feel claustrophobic, Steve in front of his only exit. Or maybe just the only one he’d thought of until now. 

“I came by to fucking—I just wanted to explain, I wanted to say sorry for being a fucking waste, for pissing on everything. I don’t want this shit, this fucking bullshit concern. You wanna be able to sleep better at night in your big, fancy bed inside your big, comfortable house? Feel better about yourself? Earn your fucking nursed a shelter dog badge? Save poor trailer trash Billy like you have any idea the kind of shit I have to do every day? Go fuck yourself, self-righteous bullshit.”

He wasn’t moving closer to the door now, he was backing away from it. Tracking in slush from his worn out boots in Steve’s pretty house. When he looked over his shoulder he saw a sliding glass door not far off. He barely had to think about it before he was moving for it, the real emotion that rested under everything telling him getoutgetoutgetout. 

***

Steve went as still as a statue against the door, feeling like he’d been slapped in the face at the word ‘bullshit.’ Twice, actually. He said it twice. Some of the color drained from his face, wincing at the curse that was usually thrown around pretty easily.

It took the fight out of Steve fucking fast. 

He bit his lip and looked away, brows knitting together in consternation at bullshitbullshitbullshitbullshit. Either he was bullshit for not showing that he cared enough, or he was bullshit when he cared too much. Either way he couldn’t fucking win, and he didn’t know if there was even a middle ground for him. 

“It’s not…bullshit.” Steve said, voice softer now. Gone quiet. 

Shit how had this happened so fast? The plan had been to get Billy a bowl of cereal. Steve’s had just turned to sludge. 

Then Billy was fucking booking it for the sliding glass doors off of the sunroom, that led out to the pool. Steve thumped his cereal bowl of melted Wheaties on the table by the entryway with the ugly picture of the geese above it, taking a few steps after Billy’s retreating back. But he wasn’t going to stop him, either. He wasn’t trapping him here. 

“It’s not ‘fucking bullshit concern’. I give a shit because I – I care about you, you asshole. I don’t want to see you hurt, I - I’m not bullshit. I’m worried.” He slouched his shoulders, arms crossing like a shield over his chest, fidgeting as he looked away into the kitchen. Not chasing after him, never forcing him. Steve just sounded defeated.“It’s not like I’m...trapping you. You can go. I’m sorry too, okay? I’m sorry.  
But you can come here. If you - if he...you can come here.”

***

Billy fucking bolted, he was a coward so he bolted. Pushed the sliding glass door open and moved back around the house in a blur, sunk into the Camaro and peeled out. Didn’t say a word, couldn’t let Steve know that he didn’t know what to do with anything he was saying to him. Worried about him, offering him a place to hide. Not wanting him to get hurt, like there was any way to keep it from happening. 

His head spun with it, replayed it over and over the whole month. He watched Steve sort of shrink into himself and thought I think I did that, went easy on him during practice like it counted for fucking anything. There was no stopping Neil, the snowball rolling too fucking fast for anyone to ever change it. Even Steve, with his perfect hands and his eyes wide in concern, telling him he didn’t have to be by himself for it. He couldn’t even entertain it, so he didn’t. 

“I’m gonna pulverize that fucking thing if you keep doing that, Maxine,” Billy said from his spot perched on his bench, lifting a weight with one arm while the other reached for the can of beer he’d lifted from Bradley’s Big Buy. 

The television was on and so was the stereo, a cigarette waiting for him in the crystal ashtray. It seemed like lately he had to do even more shit at once, his skin vibrating with it, and Max wasn’t helping. Just kept sighing and throwing that fucking ball at the wall like her whole world was coming down. Like she knew anything about shit like that. 

***

“Yeah go ahead and try.” Maxine sniffed at him from where he was laying over the couch, her knees hanging over the arm of it, swinging her bare feet. She’d been throwing the ball at the wall of the living room for the past ten minutes to see how long it would take Billy to explode. It probably wasn’t a great idea. But Max was irritated so she wanted to irritate Billy. It wasn’t a great cycle. 

“Ugh I’m so bored. Billy I’m bored.” She kept throwing the ball, and catching it again. Throw, and catch.. Thunk. –smack. Thunk. - smack Thunk. – smack. “And Steve’s being a total little bitch and won’t even have the movie night tonight and DON’T tell Neil I went to that, kay? But I really wanted to go.” 

***

Billy’s head snapped over his shoulder and he told himself it was because of the constant smacksmacksmack of the ball, not the other part. Not the part about Steve not having movie night, or how curious he was to know why. 

“I’m not a fucking snitch, Max, Jesus,” he snapped, mouth thinning when he saw what her other hand was doing. She had the box of generic Cheerios she’d begged for in her lap and she was rifling through it, totally unaware of what a fucking luxury it was. It made his blood boil, setting the weight down and turning around on the bench to face her. “Poor Max, life’s so hard isn’t it? Why are you telling me? Just go—skate around or something.”

***

“Yeah I guess.” Max said, but she sounded skeptical. She knew that if Neil asked just right, Billy’d totally blab. Neil was really good at making people talk.

“I can’t. I need to buy more duct tape. My last tape job is falling off from all the stupid snow. Because somebody broke my board.” Max said, smacking the ball against the wall especially hard on the word ‘somebody.’ She crunched down on a Honey-Nut-O, the shitty generic version of cheerios, but they were still pretty good. She chewed with her mouth open, swung her legs more. Completely oblivious to Billy’s ticked off look.

“And if you have to know, yes it is. Because there’s nothing to do. There’s not even anything on TV. You wanna go to the arcade or something? I don't think the guys are there ‘cause Steve isn’t driving Dustin, but still. Or we could go to Melvalds so I can get more tape.” 

***

Billy’s face retreated a bit from its irritation, starting when Max mentioned her board. Honestly he would’ve replaced it by now if they were in California but nobody in bumfuck Indiana even sold skateboards yet. It got even more neutral when she mentioned going to Melvalds. Stashes had gotten kind of low lately and the days he’d missed at school meant no pilfering there either. 

“Fine, tape it is,” he said abruptly, finishing his beer and carrying it to his room to get dressed. 

He gave himself a once over in the mirror once he was done, twirling the most prominent curl in front and making sure there wasn’t any residual sweat from lifting. He undid the first four buttons on his shirt for good measure, hoping the day went like he usually planned them; get Max somewhere, run into someone, rally and drive home drunk and maybe a little—not at peace. Maybe just level. 

“Let’s go, before I change my mind,” he said as he moved through the hall, keys jangling restlessly at his side. He knew she’d follow and it gave him some fucked up sense of pride, turning the music down for once as they pulled out. “What’s got into your babysitter? He get tired of hanging around kids?”

***

“What seriously?!” She’d called after him. 

Max hadn’t actually expected Billy to say YES. She’d hopped up off the couch and shoved the last few honey-o’s into her mouth that she’d dropped on the couch before shoving the box back in the pantry, hurrying to get on her jacket, pulling her green skull cap down over her ears, and then struggling into her snow boots. She even got her piggy bank out of her room and dumped it so that she could get the few crumpled dollars and some quarters out of it. She tromped after Billy, acting like she was totally not thrilled that Billy was actually taking her where she wanted to go. She slouched into the passenger side and stared moodily out of the window, completely delighted. He wasn’t even blaring the music like usual, and it was almost cool. 

Max glanced over at the question, wrinkling her nose a little. “Uh no, we’re not kids. And I don’t think that’s it. Who knows? Dustin won’t shut up about it though and I’m gonna break his neck, I swear.” She leaned back in the seat, enjoying the heater blasting and holding her hands out in front of the vents. She was pretty bored, like she’d said, so it made it easier to talk to Billy when he was the only one TO talk to. “He says it’s like last fall when Steve had his ‘major depressive episode.’” She made air quotes in front of the vents. “Whatever that means,.”

***

Billy frowned over at Max, nearly mouthing the words she was saying. Last fall? Fucking Wheeler? Not because of him. That wouldn’t make any sense, except that—

Steve had held his hand down with his own that first time, called him baby. Said he’d missed him even when it had barely been two days. Didn’t want him to get hurt. Told him he wasn’t bullshit in that tone of voice Billy had been desperately trying to forget. 

“I’m sure he’ll snap out of it and you’ll get to see your little boyfriend at your movie night again,” he said, a tease without the usual barb at the edge of it, his hand reaching from the steering wheel to blindly push at her face. It was funny, touching people casually, even in a friendly way. He hadn’t done it in a while. “Need you to do lookout inside, gotta jack some beers in case there’s a rager tonight.”

***

“Gross he’s not my boyfriend.” Max sniffed and tipped her nose up, but she was smiling a little. 

When Billy shoved at her face, at first she tensed – like she wasn’t sure if he was actually going to hit her. But when he just pushed at her face lightly – it was almost like – Max blinked, a little laugh startling it’s way out of her chest. She cut it off and choked it down. It almost felt like it used to be. Just for a second, but it was there.

Max pulled her head away from him, gently swatting his hand away. But she perked up at the job offer. Now that was definitely like before. 

“Oh yeah, I could totally do that.” She was a real good lookout if she did say so herself. She reached up to tug the yellow hood of her sweatshirt out so that it lay over the back of her jacket. She was ready. Sometimes Billy used to use the hood of her hoodie to tuck stuff in – like packs of gum or tylenol or whatever – casually as they walked through an isle. “And I’ll let you know if movie nights start back up. I’ll just say I’m staying over at Annabeth’s again for dinner. But I dunno, Steve’s being a weirdo. Kinda seems like it’s been since...since that one day, in the parking lot forever ago? What...what happened?”

***

Billy put the Camaro in park and killed the engine, leaving the keys in as he considered what to say. They were inside the car so, contrary to how he felt sometimes, there were no ears around, no Neil. 

“He flipped his shit when he saw Neil and I. There was just a little accident, knocked my head on the truck and he lost it because he’s a neurotic little shit,” he finally decided on, fingers playing with the keychains hanging out of the ignition. “I swung over to sort of...reiterate it. It didn’t go so good. I doubt that’s it though.”

***

Max looked at him kind with a suspicious look at the word ‘reiterate.’ “What, like reiterate that he’s a ‘neurotic little shit?’ Did you hit him again? Because yeah, that probably wouldn’t be so good. I mean none of us can figure out anything else, so – what’d you say, really? I kind of know him better than you.” 

She nodded very wisely, Billy barely even knew Steve besides the team and beating him up and Max had to save him and all that. She’d know if Billy just told her what he’d said, if that’s what was bugging Steve, then maybe they’d get somewhere with getting him out of this weird slump.

“I mean his parents are back in town, but I don’t think that’s it. Dustin says it might be, but I think it’s something else. I really want movie nights back, Billy. What’d you say?” 

***

“You know that time the Lippitts called the cops back in SF? I talked to them and sort of—straightened it all out. I told them about how loud my music always is and it was just some stupid misunderstanding,” Billy said carefully, trying to keep himself sounding bored, neutral. “Shit like that really bugs Neil after the army, men in uniform and shit. Says it’s got to do with shell shock or something, so I helped.”

It’s the most he’s ever lied to Max and it feels faulty, full of holes. Like the ones in the hallway in their old house, covered by family pictures. His music had barely been on that night. Just enough to keep Susan and Max from hearing him say dad please and Neil saying I’ll knock your fucking block off, boy. Neighbors hadn’t been so lucky. 

“That’s what I did at Harrington’s place but he had a fit about it. I didn’t hit him, Jesus Christ.”

***

“Yeah, I...I guess I remember. Sorta. But I mean you play your music way louder in the car, that’s so stupid…” She snorted. “I think he just says stuff like that. Shell shock or whatever.”

But there’s something about Billy’s tone that doesn’t sit quite right. Max’s heard Billy lie before. And it…doesn’t sound right. But she’s not going to push him on it, she knows what happens when she pushes Billy, and this is probably the first decent conversation they've had in like…a year. So she’ll take it. She’s not gonna make him get all bitchy by doubting him – at least for now. 

“So what, you went over there to just talk away this misunderstanding where you slipped or whatever? Steve really didn’t seem to think it was an accident, and, well I guess he can be a little neurotic sometimes. But. I mean he’s not stupid. Everybody seems to think so, like gosh Nancy, that whole bullshit thing was really low, but – he’s really not.” Max frowned a little, tipping her head, looking out of the windshield at the display windows of Melvlads. The gears visibly turning behind her temples. 

“Steve wouldn’t just have a ‘misunderstanding’ and shout like that for no reason.” She said slowly, as that piece apparently slid into place more than a month later. “He was pissed.”

***

Billy didn’t really get the anger he was feeling, gave himself a second to stare out the windshield too, wondered if he’d taught her that. It was kind of nice watching someone call Neil on a bluff but—it wasn’t anger, it turned out. It was fear, the idea of Neil ever seeing her mouth off like that. What might happen. 

Bullshit thing? Fuck, he remembered Carol talking about that. Somebody eavesdropping at the other end of the alley, just a few hundred feet from where Billy had been wiping the floor with Steve. Bullshit bullshit bullshit, you’re bullshit. His guts churned with the guilt that cropped up there. It got pushed aside for the moment thankfully. 

“You really, really don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Max,” he said, suddenly tired, head tipping back against the seat. “Trust me, I bet he was just pissed about something else. Saw something to latch onto and fuck with.”

***

Max blinked, the moment gone, and she made a face looking over at Billy. “Well I mean maybe not but I didn’t see it. And I dunno, sure.” Didn’t sound like Steve, but sure. “Anyways. Are we gonna get tape or what? I’m getting frostbite over here.” She frowned, changing the subject fast, and carefully filed this conversation away for later. She wasn’t gonna forget it, but she also knew when Billy was hitting the end of his limit, and this was it. But he’d called her ‘Max.’ And that was something. 

Mas hopped out of the Camaro first, shutting the door carefully enough that Billy wouldn’t bitch at her about slamming the door like she usually did at the arcade before flipping him the bird. Didn’t want to ruin this bizarre thing they had going today. She headed towards Melvalds, digging the crumpled bills out of her pocket. She could already see Mrs. Byers at the cash register from out here.

***

Billy followed without any argument, thankful Max had decided to drop it. When the doors opened his eyes were on the medicine aisle immediately but he scanned the place a bit first. The sort of nervous looking woman he’d seen a few times was working today but she wasn’t really an issue, didn’t seem bothered enough to pay attention to him. Probably didn’t look too suspicious to her since her son was so up his own ass about being alternative. 

He steered Max toward his destination with a fleeting touch to her arm, another bizarre, gentle thing that had him pulling his hand back like it had been burnt. Ibuprofen was easy to tuck into the inside pocket of his jacket, the sound of the pills muffled by the leather. Bandages and gauze were a little harder so he pretended to reach over Max for something and stuffed them in her hood, eyes scanning the aisle for some arnica. 

“You need a ride home or are you cool in town? Might be a thing tonight,” he said casually, picking up the duct tape and pressing it into her hands. Leave it to bumfuck nowhere to combine their home improvement shit with first aid. 

***

Max felt the additional weight added to her hood at the back of her neck, but she didn’t actually know what items Billy had grabbed either. She was keeping look out. And Mrs. Byers was totally not paying any attention to them. She was flipping through a magazine at the counter. She grabbed onto the duct tape offered to her, fingers latching around the silver circle as she shrugged at Billy. Trying to figure out what was in her hood and why they were in the medicine isle. Seemed weird. They had stuff in the medicine cabinet at home. 

“Could you maybe drop me off at the house? I’m gonna tape my board and wax it.” 

When they got up to the counter, she tried not to feel guilty as she handed over the duct tape and paid Mrs. Byers – it was different when you had some random sales clerk you didn’t actually know when you had stuff tucked into your hoodie – but it was also still kind of a thrill like usual. She’d always liked helping Billy like that. They made a good team, once. 

***

Turned out there was a thing. Billy had been a little surprised at first that Hawkins parties were so fucking frequent and so packed, some tiny thing not that different from California. He guessed when you had a big house with no parents around and nothing else to do but fuck farm animals you probably wanted to get blasted too. 

Which he was. Definitely, definitely was. 

He swayed and allowed Tommy to hold him up, alcohol making it easier to not flinch or instantly headlock the fucker. That made keg stand number three and his own record beaten. The one that was Steve’s before. Steve. He saw him out of the corner of his eye, just a flash of dark hair before he was preoccupied, howling up at that fucking void in the sky. 

Saying just fucking do it then. 

This one was at Tommy’s again and he knew exactly where he wanted to go. He wanted to go where Steve had touched his arm, dragged him to safety and away from all the hangers on. Where they’d been before he ruined everything like always. The crowd parted for him like the fucking Red Sea and he made it halfway through the living room before he had to stop, some partial memory of stopping just like this the first time he’d seen Steve. 

Just like the first time Steve was with a girl, not Wheeler though. Might’ve recognized her any other time, if he was sober or if his stomach wasn’t doing fucking somersaults. He was frozen in place and thankful for the crowd and the lack of sobriety surrounding him, hoped no one saw him staring but there wasn’t really any stopping it. 

***

Most of the crowd had filtered outside under the spark of stars and into the steady mist that had started to crawl over Hawkins earlier that evening – that tended to happen after it snowed there a lot, from all of the moisture as the snow started to evaporate. Steve felt pretty proud that he knew that, but he guessed when you grew up around it, it was just a fact that you knew. He knew they were going out there to tap yet another keg, but he didn’t fucking care – that wasn’t his scene anymore, wasn’t his title, and he didn’t freaking care. It had been a really long month, with really short nights, and Steve was getting fucking plastered with or without a keg stand. 

He’d been drinking the hard stuff for most of the night, trying to get himself three sheets to the wind. He was feeling a little too bullshit and he’d seriously needed to let loose after having his fucking parents home all week. That had just been the cherry on top of this shit sundae. Incredible reinforcement that Steve was a total piece of hot garbage that wouldn’t amount to anything, just faking his way through life but not actually making it, gonna have to work at his dad’s company because he couldn’t do anything else in life apparently.

He couldn’t even woo Billy Hargrove right. Steve chuckled a little to himself. Woo. Woo and Billy didn’t go together.

Yeah he’d fucked that up pretty good alright. He knew you know, he knew that it was his fault and all – these things were always his fault, but damn he’d really been trying to do things right this time. It hadn’t even lasted long enough for it to settle or feel real, but, he’d wanted it to be. Real. 

But his eyes were fucking brown with too much bullshit and nobody wanted to be with him for real, whether he was too fake or not fake enough. Whether he was pretending or not. Steve was sipping some cheap vodka and soda in a Solo cup, fucking tipsy as he sat on the couch and felt the bass vibrate through his bones. 

He wasn’t entirely sure when this girl showed up. It was after people started to come back inside, cheering their new king. He thought her name was Alice – he’d remember if he was sober, he’d probably known her forever, at least in passing, even if they weren’t friends. She definitely seemed to know him. He thought she might’ve said some shit to him at first and gotten him nodding about something but he didn’t know what he’d nodded to and she was crawling into his lap. And at first he’d thought maybe yeah, maybe this was good, maybe she could help him feel better, help him forget. The weight of her felt good, her hips settling over his thighs, her hands on his shoulders, but the tartness of her fruity perfume stung his nose, and she was doing something with her hips, mouthing at his neck, but he was soft as shit. Wanted to push her away, but he was blinking and about to slide sideways and then she’d fall off the dumb couch anyways. 

He was way more blasted than the last time he’d been at a party, and that party – Steve’s breath caught as he thought of Billy, looking all pretty against the side of the house. Jesus, he really liked Billy. And he couldn’t even help him. He’d even talked to Hop about it, anonymously. And there wasn’t shit he could do. What the fuck good was he? Something wet licked up his neck, he thought it might be a tongue. Gross. He swiped at his neck, trying to wipe away spit. 

Steve blinked, making a face and tried to pull back but she was fumbling at his belt and fuck he wanted her to go away but his mouth didn’t wanna work. He just felt confused and blurry and faded. But he didn’t fucking want it. She was too soft, no stubble, and she smelled too sweet, not like sandalwood and cologne, and she had a dimple chin not a strong one, thighs thin, not well muscled and – Steve was gonna fucking barf in her lap, squirming against the cushions. 

But at the same time, the thought overlapping in his mind was maybe this was the best he’d ever have - unlasting impermanence that didn’t mean anything. The urge to vomit was stronger.

***

Billy saw red, quicker than he’d seen it in a month. Except that’s not what he was seeing. He was seeing something else, something sick and heavy like tar, pulling him down until he couldn’t move. He saw an expression on Steve’s face that he recognized and the body language he more than recognized. After that it wasn’t hard to move at all. 

“Get lost, Becky,” he hissed, hauling the girl up by her upper arm and ignoring the hey! that followed in favor of moving her to the other side of the couch, hand leaving her arm to put his finger in her face. “Go find Tina or Carol, drink some fucking water.”

He moved on to Steve and again it was hard not to let his cards show, to not panic or send himself into some memories he didn’t feel like poking. This wasn’t that, it wasn’t because he was there, and it was fine. Would be. He bent at the waist and used some slightly over confident strength to haul Steve over his shoulder, his back and shoulders protesting immediately. 

“You need some fresh air,” he said, hooking an arm over the back of Steve’s knee to steady him, mean mugging whichever sets of eyes decided to look his way. “Go fuck yourselves, go back to partying.”

***

The entire world tilted like a tilt-o-whirl at the Hawkins Summer Fair, and Steve choked bile down as he snatched onto some fabric that was in front of his face and he was hanging upside down. He really couldn’t have said how he got upside down. He clung onto the material of a jacket, leaning his forehead against it as something braced his knees, keeping him steady. He breathed in deep to stop from throwing up and eased the air back out in a sigh of relief. He knew this smell, this was the scent he’d wanted, not that Grapefruit crap, it was this – all Marlboro Reds, musky cologne and supple leather. Steve’s fingers twitched as he dug them in to buttery, brown leather. 

“Ungh…Billy?” He asked. And Billy talked back, like magic, something about air and fuck yourself and well Steve guessed that was fair.

Then everything was moving again and Steve still couldn’t actually decide how he was upside down but everything smelled like Billy in front of his face and he was okay he guessed. And that girl was gone, his belt undone, clinking next to Billy’s face. 

***

“Alright, here we go, easy does it,” Billy said, bending at the knees to set Steve up against the side of Tommy’s house, that same little space they’d shared whiskey. He kept a hand on Steve’s shoulder to steady him and pointedly ignored the belt for the moment, a little too close to puking himself, which… “You need to throw up?”

Honestly, he wouldn’t even mind. He’d probably let Steve puke all over him if it meant he could just be around him for five minutes. This wasn’t ideal, it was sending alarm bells off in his head but it was better than nothing because he felt—he did something right. 

“Can I fix your belt for you? I don’t have to, you can do it,” he said quietly, no one in sight but it didn’t matter, Steve didn’t need that shit. He needed better than that, a whole lot better. 

***

When up seemed like up and down seemed like down again, Steve slumped back against the side of the house, Nikes sliding in the crunchy old snow. Everything was covered in a light layer of mist out here, and he was having trouble determining exactly where they were, but he didn’t really care. Didn’t even feel the cold. Steve shook his head once the sense of vertigo had faded, swallowing a little – his mouth tasted like bile and cotton, but now that they weren’t moving, and that grapefruit shit was out of his nose, the urge to throw up wasn’t as bad. 

“’m okay,” Steve mumbled. He stared at Billy with bleary eyes, a confused little line forming between his brows at the question - before he looked down at his belt, undone. He wasn’t sure how it got undone. He wondered if his eyebrows looked like question marks, like in a cartoon as he stared at his own belt. “Howse it? Hmm…”

Steve went boneless against the house, eyes slipping closed as he tried to stop the rocking. “Why’re you..talking to me? Keg King?” He laughed a little, breathless, before he slipped his eyes back open. 

“Thought you dess-decided I was, bulllllshit.” He tipped his head back, Adams apple bobbing, looking away and then seeming to notice Billy standing there again. Like hitting pause and play. He reached out an unsteady hand to catch at Billy’s jacket, lifting his other up to pet at Billy’s golden hair. Stumbling forward into him. “You’re, really pretty. I like yur…your hair. Like you.” 

***

Billy’s face crumpled a little before he righted it, more thankful than ever there was no one else around. He eased Steve’s hand away from his hair and settled him back against the house, tried to keep his touch clinical. Steve looked like some diminished version of himself, those big puppy dog eyes not going away even when he was cooing at him. Like you. 

“Like you too, Steve. I like you a lot, maybe I’ll tell you how much when you’re doing better,” he said carefully, checking the ground under Steve for any slush before encouraging him to sit and doing the same. “You’re not bullshit, not even a little. I just got scared, I got really scared. Don’t worry about that right now okay? You need water or anything? Want to sit in the Camaro so I can run the heat maybe?”

***

Steve lowered himself at Billy’s insistence, his legs sprawling out in the dirt, frozen, brown grass, and bits of old snow. He stared at Billy, all big dark eyes and mouth slightly ajar as he listened, entranced. Lashes blinking slow as he took it in, but his brain was so sluggish it was hard. Billy was at his side like this big steady wall and Steve leaned against him, like maybe he could take Steve’s weight like Steve wanted to take Billy’s weight. 

“Why’re you scared? Don’t…have t’be scared..” Steve murmured, nosing against the leather of Billy’s jacket, because his nose was cold. “Mm the, vodka ssoda, was drinking the…vodka. I forgot my…where’s my cup…” He sighed into Billy’s jacket, breathing in the familiar Billy smell. Then he stiffened slightly. He pulled back, hair sticking up a little crazy. “Why, why’re you being so nice?” 

Steve didn’t actually think he was that drunk. In fact, he almost never got drunk. Or at least not this drunk. He didn’t remember the last time he’d drank so much, even if it didn’t seem like a lot. He’d always been the one to keep a level head, keep his head on straight, be the mostly sober one - sober enough to drive half the time, or to tell Nancy when she’d had enough even if she was a mean fucking drunk and - he really wasn’t that bad. Even when he tapped kegs, he wasn’t too bad off. Maybe his alcohol tolerance had been shot from not going to parties in forever.

“Is this, a trick?” he whispered at Billy. 

***

Billy was pretty sure Steve wasn’t going to remember this conversation. There wasn’t much use getting into the myriad of reasons why he was scared, not now. Maybe later, if there was a later at all. 

“I’m being nice because—I care about you too. I guess I thought I’d make it easier on you and get out of your hair,” he said, resisting the urge to lean on Steve too, still all too aware that Steve might not really know what he was doing. “I’m being nice because seeing you in the living room...you shouldn’t do things you don’t want to. You didn’t want to and this is safer. I’m being nice because I—I guess I wish someone had done that for me a couple times.”

He wasn’t going to remember, so that was fine. 

“It’s not a trick, pinky swear,” he said, even quieter this time but closer to Steve’s ear. “It’s gonna get cold and you shouldn’t be in there. Can I grab your keys?”

***

“That’s…stupid, because – I like you in my hu-hair. You can stay. In my hair.” He had a flash of Billy’s fingers carding through his hair as they lay in Steve’s bed, of his fingertips against his scalp, the way it made Steve’s skin tighten all over his body. He liked it.

Steve forgot when he closed his eyes, imagining. He opened them again to peer up into Billy’s blueblue so blue eyes, like how were they so blue, it was unreal. Couldn’t be real. 

“Your eyes are…so blue. You…could be from Dune. Are you? I…” Steve sighed, gaze drifting aimlessly away from Billy’s Dune-blue eyes. 

He got a little pucker on his forehead as Billy mentioned the living room, and even though it felt choppy, this choppy, not-really-there memory, Steve remembered how he’d felt. He twisted his fingers up more into the sleeve of Billy’s jacket, which he was clinging to like a lifeline to stop him from drifting away. “Didn’t…smell right. She smelled bad, and yeah I don’t…I don’t want…don’t want her. Want you.” 

Steve blinked big at him again, his cheek resting against the ball of Billy’s shoulder as he hung onto his sleeve, like a clingy bitch. 

“Happened, to you…? I…” Steve straightened his neck a little, face opening wide and earnest at that, stating“I’d..save you. I’d save you..I…I would.” His cheek slumped back against Billy’s shoulder as another wave of dizziness struck him.

But as Billy said it wasn’t a trick, Steve blinked. Once he could wrangle the fine motor skills to do it, he held up his free hand, pinky extended expectantly. 

He wasn’t cold, the keys were in his Members Only jacket pocket. He nodded in assent, cheek rubbing against Billy’s shoulder.

***

Billy gave up and leaned in too, resting his head against Steve’s and closing his eyes while his face fell apart. There was nobody to see it, Steve veering in and out of awareness, just that big black void above them and it had seen him plenty of times. I’d save you rang in his ears and drowned out the alarm bells so sweetly he had to squeeze his eyes shut, felt them burning. 

When he opened them again Steve’s pinky was still out so he reached out to curl his around it, giving it a childish little wiggle even if his face was still heavy with grief. He took a deep breath and used his free hand to fish around Steve’s pockets with quick and light fingers, pulling them out once he found them and tucking them into his own pocket. 

“Alright, up we go, you’ve just gotta help me a little,” he said, separating their hands to try and sit Steve up off his shoulder. 

***

Satisfied with the pinky swear, Steve’s hand dropped down to droop over his own thigh, blinking sleepily. “Uh, yeah, yeah..” Steve finally untangled his hand and stirred as Billy got Steve to sort of sit up, not braced against his Billy-wall anymore. “But ‘m not cold…”

As they both got up to their feet, Steve hanging onto Billy as a lifeline, everything fucking went sideways as all of the blood rushed out of Steve’s head. Black stars danced in front of his eyes before his vision completely blacked out with the shift of his blood pressure, and he promptly leaned over and threw up Vodka and soda all over the space by Tommy’s house and in between their feet. Nothing but liquid, and it burned the entire way up like fire. He was so gross, he felt like a total garbage pail kid. Billy would never want to see him again maybe. “Uff, ugh..” Steve coughed. “S,sorry.” 

***

Billy swept a hand across Steve’s shoulders once he thought he was done, his face in a sympathetic grimace. He gave Steve’s back a short pat once, then twice before deeming it safe to lean into his line of sight. 

“It’s okay, you needed to,” he said, no time to really consider how fucking maternal he sounded, his voice smooth and even. “Alright, just—one second. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He set Steve back down and made himself walk back inside, only looking back over his shoulder about a million fucking times. His face was in stark opposition with how it had been a few seconds ago, one he used to get past people and without any bother, heading to Tommy’s fridge. Once he was there he swiped three water bottles from the fridge and cradled them in his arms, stomping back outside. Fucking rich people. 

“Okay here we go, gonna try that again, okay?” he said, easing Steve back up to his feet again. When it seemed like Steve wasn’t going to puke on his boots again he lead them out to the Beemer, one arm cradling Steve’s waist while the other held the bottles. “If you feel sick again just let me know once we get in your car, I’m not gonna go anywhere.”

***

The second Billy moved away, Steve was alone in the dark and the mist at the side of the house, which, by the way, he didn’t actually know that’s where it was. It was just dark, quiet, and still with no Billy, and Steve’s breath immediately picked up as his glazed over eyes flicked towards the shadows that crept at the corners of his vision. 

“Wait…don’t…go. B-Billy?” he said to no one.

And even though he felt a little better after throwing up, everything felt dizzier, and he felt way more exposed. So by the time Billy got back, Steve felt shaky and there were monsters maybe hiding in the mist with too many teeth and not enough faces and – Steve looked up as Billy came back, vision blurry and it took him like a full second to realize that it was Billy. He huffed out a funny sound as the blonde helped Steve up, half hanging onto his side. Shaky and trying not to panic, head lolling. 

“We…we’ve gotta be, careful. Lock the…d-doors, there are monsters. There are monsters out here. They ate Barb.” His whispered urgently.

But then time skipped, and the next second Steve was settled in the back, a hand sprawled out over his face, fingers long over the shadows of his face, and somehow he also had a blanket over him – the nice wool one from the trunk, it took him a bit to realize. The plaid one he’d let Billy sleep under at the arcade. Steve shifted, breath picking up, eyes searching the interior of the Beamer. “Billy?” 

***

Billy turned the key and cranked the heat, tried to remind himself not to leave it on too long. As long as he got Steve warm enough to sleep it would be fine with the blanket. He could keep watch, was pretty good at that. That and running on very little sleep. 

“Hi, I’m here. I’m just gonna run the heat for a little while, alright? You can just sleep,” he said, turning in his seat to face Steve. 

He looked scared and maybe he really was just completely blacked out, talking about monsters and things that ate people and looking like he thought they were real. Not much different from how he’d looked when Billy had climbed through his window, seconds away from totally annihilating him with that fucking bat. So he reached into the backseat to find Steve’s hand, a mirror image reversed, squeezing it tightly before tucking it under the blanket. 

“Go to sleep, I’ll be right here and there’s water on the floor next to you. Don’t drink it too fast and just—relax, you can relax,” he said, swallowing because the next words were heavy with meaning, even if Steve wouldn’t remember. “I’m not going anywhere anymore.”

***


	3. Chapter 3

Steve’s head hurt, and waking up was way too much, all at once. He let out a low moan as weak rays of sunlight, as if that of very early morning, filtered directly into his eyelids like they were made of cellophane. Steve winced and pressed his palms against his eyes, shifting underneath a warm wool blanket. His face was fucking cold, and when he breathed, it misted in front of his face. He remembered drinking some water at some point in the night, but his throat was parched and he didn’t know if he’d been so hung over ever. 

Okay maybe ever, but certainly not recently enough he could remember. When he could finally convince his eyes to crack open to figure out what the hell was happening, he blinked in confusion as he looked up at a dome light and the ceiling of the BMW. With his eyes still squinty and burning, he kept going – gaze searching – until it landed on whoever was in the front seat. Billy? Steve went still under the blanket, blinking like he could bring the person into focus and they wouldn’t have a mullet and spike earring and leather jacket. 

Then it very slowly came back. Not entirely, but just a little. He remembered he drank way too much last night. He kind of remembered being carried away, and he remembered leaning against Billy. He closed his eyes as he remembered, wincing. 

“Shit, what happened….” He mumbled. Then he went still. There was a reason why Billy’d needed to go home early those nights he’d been at Steve’s.“What’re you…Billy, what’re you doing here?” He asked, sitting up too fast. “Your dad, what’re you – “ The world spun. He flopped back down, slapping a hand over his forehead again. Yikes. He groaned again. The world was terrible. Everything was awful.

***

Billy straightened up in the driver’s seat as he watched Steve wake up, wincing in sympathy as he came back to himself. He wasn’t surprised that Steve didn’t remember anything but having to sort of kind of apologize all over again didn’t sound that appealing. If it kept Steve talking to him he guessed it would be worth it.

“Hey, you’re looking a lot more sober,” he said, reaching down in the backseat to crack open a water bottle, handing it over to Steve. “Don’t drink it too fast. You just got too drunk, nothing crazy happened. Well, you barfed on my boots and your shoes but I rinsed them off, they’re just drying under you.”

He paused at Steve’s mention of Neil. He’d been doing his best not to think about that, knew if he thought on what was waiting for him at home too long he might’ve snuck out while Steve was sleeping. Steve waking up alone and confused with his belt still undone just—it wasn’t really an option. 

“It’s alright, don’t worry about that. He’ll be pissed but I can handle it,” he said, waving a hand dismissively, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Steve. “How much do you remember?”

***  
“Ughhh, I never drink that much.” Steve sighed and slid his hands down his face, tugging at the skin there like it was a mask he could remove before he got his eyes back on Billy. 

“Oh…thanks.” He accepted the water bottle and did his best to try and sip at it even though he wanted to chug it straight. “I’m…really sorry, man, about your boots. Thanks for…washing my shoes.” He felt a blush starting to warm his cheeks against the cold, wincing as he started to sit up a lot more slowly, easing himself up until he could lean against the rear passenger door. Watching Billy with dark eyes and a crinkle at his brow. 

“You’re sure – about him? You just…stayed here with me? Wh..what time is it?” He rubbed at one eye and drank more water, trying to gauge where the sun was at, but he couldn’t tell. It must still be really early, too early for the sun to fully be in the sky. When he readjusted his belt buckle clinked, loose at his jeans and Steve frowned down at it. The hell? And Billy was asking what he’d remembered. What he remembered? Steve tried to focus, tried to recall the events of the past night. 

“I dunno. You were outside doing a keg stand, I think it was your…second. Listening to Depeche Mode? And then…” That’s when everything got really hazy, like trying to look through warped glass. “Somebody licking my neck, this rubbing alcohol smell. Then…you, I think you carried me, and I was leaning against you and sitting somewhere. I think I remember throwing up.” 

His blush was deepening now as he worried at his lower lip, re-doing his belt up with a clank of metal on metal. 

***

Billy ran his tongue over his teeth as he listened, turning around to turn the engine back on, heat blasting now that Steve was awake. He let it idle and rolled the driver’s side window a few inches, just enough to light a cigarette and not totally smother Steve with smoke. Maybe not a great idea if Steve’s stomach was sour at all but he needed it if he was going to talk. 

“Ended up doing three, actually, but I held off after that. You were obliterated on the couch with some chick and she seemed wasted too but—it was going to get sketchy. You just weren’t there at all,” he said, taking a drag to distract himself a little, maybe sound more even. “So I took you outside to sober up a little, had you sit down and kind of said sorry I was a stupid dick. Nothing happened, I just stayed in case you got sick while you were sleeping.”

Also because you called me pretty and said you wanted me. Said you’d save me. 

***

“Shit – shit aren’t you cold?” Steve twitched into action as he leaned forward, gathering up the plaid felt blanket in his hands and pushed it at Billy, hoping he’d take it. Use it. Over his lap or, or something. Steve’d been totally hogging it all night, and what, Billy was just sitting in this February night chill? 

“You’re gonna get sick.” Steve frowned at him, leaning back a little, arms crossing over his chest against the cold as he watched Billy break out a smoke, breathing the nicotine and tar from his lungs out the window. The idea of a cigarette made his stomach squirm at the thought, it sounded so gross right now. 

Three? He did three? Steve had no recollection between number two and three, apparently, which he did not love. 

Steve listened in silence, only really showing that he was being attentive by the way his dark eyes studied Billy’s face in the reflection of the rearview mirror – those blue eyes angled out the glass of the window he was blowing smoke out of. Little things attached themselves to the words – the feeling of soft hips over his lap, and the feeling of wrong, because they weren’t wide and thick like Billy’s, and that rubbing alcohol smell in his nose when…he’d only wanted to smell Billy’s cologne, like something he’d acquired a taste for and nothing else could quite compare. Steve stirred in the backseat as Billy mentioning saying sorry for being a dick. 

“You..you did?” Steve asked. He didn’t remember that. “And I was drunk for it? Damn.” Steve tried smiling, trying to lighten the mood. But it didn’t last long."I…I think I remember a few other things, and…guess you’re my white knight or something, huh? I don’t even….remember who it was. But I remember I didn’t want that, I just want…” Steve’s look adjusted to stare out the window now, words fading away like water spilled over ink. Want you. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say that anymore. 

***

Billy opened his mouth to protest—it wasn’t that bad and he’d been out here long enough to not notice it anymore—but it died when he saw the frown on Steve’s face. He held his hands up in mock surrender and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders as he turned to face Steve, knees up to his chest and an elbow on the middle console. It was just as warm, smelled just as sweet as when he’d slept underneath it. 

“Yeah, you might’ve mentioned something about that. I wasn’t going to let something fucked up like that happen to you, not even if we weren’t talking or—whatever the fuck,” he said, frowning right back at Steve, the unspoken end of Steve’s words almost as warm as the flannel. He took another drag and switched hands, ashing out of the crack in the window and blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth, not quite making eye contact. “I am. Sorry, I mean, for fucking up and leaving. I thought it would be better not to muck up everything for you with my soap opera.”

***

“Well, I…really wanna say thanks. Thank you. For doing that.” Steve tracked Billy’s movements from the back, the way his languid body moved in the front seat, ducking under the blanket, probably still warm from Steve’s own body heat. Hooking his arm around the center console, knee up, and Steve thought he looked like some kind of a big cat contained in a very small space. 

“I mean I guess that sort of thing happens all the time at parties like this, but…nobody really talks about it, I mean, not with guys. And I guess a couple of years ago…who knows.” Steve sighed, a little frown still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But I don’t want it. Now.” Didn’t want some one night thing, impermanence bull-shit, especially if he was only semi-conscious for it. Even if him and Billy had been a little sloshed that first night a month ago, they were both still there enough to actively consent and participate. He wanted connection. He wanted meaning.

“I’m sorry for making a big scene in front of Bradley’s. I don’t know what I could have even accomplished, I just…had to. I couldn’t help it. I’m not sorry for what I said, but – I’m sorry for making anything more difficult for you…I’m sorry for upsetting you. You didn’t fuck up, I did. I should have handled it better or whatever, and…I didn’t mean to make you hate me.” 

Steve frowned and fidgeted with his hands in his lap. “Trust me, you didn’t ‘muck up’ anything for me – my life is one big, giant soap opera.” A supernatural soap opera, he wanted to say, but he didn’t say that. It wouldn’t make sense in present company. 

***

Billy smiled a little at the thanks, the smile thinning as Steve went on. Yeah, no shit nobody talked about it. Didn’t matter right now though. He swallowed through the feeling and shook his head while Steve apologized, setting the cigarette between his lips to wave a hand. 

“Don’t be sorry. I mean, I’d rather you not yell at the grizzly bear again, but I get it. You meant well, you didn’t know,” he said, though he knew that Steve did. Steve did know to some extent because he’d said as much a month ago. That what Neil did was wrong, that it wasn’t normal. “It’s—listen, there’s not a whole lot to be done. If it was wrong. Max doesn’t know and at this point it would just break the family up right before I was going to leave anyway. I can’t leave Susan with all that shit. So I get it, but it’s kind of a non starter.”

He took one last drag of his cigarette and thought about the word hate, flicking it out of the window and rolling it back up. He eased the blanket off now that the heat was fully filling the car and handed it to Steve, prodding him with it. 

“I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit, Steve,” he said quietly, looking over a face that had maybe seen better early mornings but still stayed handsome as ever. “You don’t remember and that’s okay, but I still do. Want you.”

***

Steve grinned at him, shoulders easing, losing a bit of their tension as the conversation began to ease a little bit. It was a little bit of a cocksure smile, a tiny, bright thing when he tilted his head, brown hair swaying over his forehead. “I’ve faced worse than grizzly bears. Your dad’s got nothing on that. I’m not scared of him.” But the smile died away a little as Steve chewed on what Billy was saying, about Max, about Susan. Yeah. Yeah, if Billy left, what then? 

If Billy’s dad was like what Steve thought he was – what his grandpa had said some men were after the war, when they liked it too much, brought it back with them – there wasn’t a way to really stop that. Not once they had a taste for the violence - and Steve knew, after staring into those dead eyes, he’d never accept some kind of VA help. But that didn’t mean that Billy should have to be the one to take the brunt of it in the meantime. It couldn’t go on forever. Billy staying there to keep the ire off of them. 

But Steve didn’t say that. He wasn’t going to keep on pushing this conversation like he had a month ago. For now, he was going to let it lie. Because Billy was saying he didn’t hate Steve. And that wasn’t something Steve had expected – even if ‘hate’ was maybe a little strong, but bullshit generally at least meant apathetic. Steve accepted the blanket back, hugging it against his chest in a bundle. 

Steve stared right back at Billy, eyes tracing over those rough features, the glaze of stubble and dark under-eyes that meant he hadn’t slept for keeping Steve safe. And no, Steve didn’t remember – but maybe more had been said last night than just an apology. And Jesus, Steve wished he could remember.

“Y’do?” Steve breathed out. Not daring to breathe too loud or it might ruin it. The words ‘want you’ vibrated in his veins, made his stomach flip and his heart rate pick up. 

***

“Yeah, I do,” Billy said immediately, not wanting the moment to pass. He didn’t have to think about it even for a second so it was easy to say, something he’d been wanting to say for weeks. “I do, and I’m sorry.”

His watch beeped not even five seconds later, like the world knew everything was falling into place and wanted to remind him of how easily it could get fucked up again. Five o’clock, wake up time even on a Sunday, lest Neil get a wild hair about doing fucking military drills or cleaning the bathroom again. At least he was sober enough to drive now, but he didn’t want to. 

“I really have to go. Are you gonna be okay to drive home or do you want me to?” he said, sighing through the first sentence. “It’s only a few blocks, I can get you there and come back for the Camaro.”

***

Something warm and sweet blossomed in the middle of Steve’s chest even as his head was fucking pounding like a drum and his stomach felt like he’d dumped gasoline into it. He was aware that they were still at Tommy’s house, but he leaned forward just a little – nobody was around – and brushed his fingers against the hand Billy had hooked around the center console. Tracing his fingertips over the bumps of his knuckles down the lines of his tendons. 

“I – “ He started, but then the watch started beeping.

Steve stopped, staring down at it. Sounded like an alarm. “Oh. Oh, shit yeah, you need to get home. No, I…I think I’m okay now. I need like twenty aspirin, but I’ll be alright. Thanks again, for waiting, and helping me, and…well for everything.”

Steve said softly, stroking the broad side of his thumb over the edge of Billy’s hand before he withdrew it, scrubbing his hands over his face and slapping his cheeks a little to wake up more. 

“Call me when you get home? Or you can buzz me on Max’s walkie if the phone doesn’t work.”  
He suspected it might be difficult to use the phone if Neil was being a total asshole like usual. 

***

“I can tr—wait,” Billy said, eyebrows lifting and a small smile breaking out across his face that absolutely wasn’t giddy. Fat fucking chance. “I’m getting Max to the arcade at four, you could show up there. Little birdie told me you might owe the brats a ride anyway.”

He was moving a little quick because he knew he was going to get hell when he got home. Well, maybe it was a little bit because of Steve’s hand on his for that small moment. It was such a fucking silver lining for what was about to be a mostly shitty day he was climbing out of the Beemer quickly, shutting the door and rapping his fist on the back window as a goodbye. 

“Seeya, Steve,” he said against the glass, drumming his fingers over it one more time before rushing off to the Camaro. Not so bad. 

***

When Steve walked into the arcade, it was the same as always. Same bright, blinking, flashing screens and neon lights zipping up the walls. Even though it was still daylight out, the windows had been taped and foiled over to keep the sun out, making it feel like a deep, dark cave where nerds could gather in peace without fearing the sun. The little vampires.

It was a Sunday, so none of the kids were in school, and there was a fair amount of them. The ‘crack, shwoop, pop, bam’ of video game sound effects, the jostle of joysticks and smashed buttons, and the rattle of pinball machines assaulted him along with laughter and chatter. The boys all rushed around Steve as they walked through the door, making a beeline for the change machine with the dollars Steve had just forked over to Dustin like a total loser. 

But all that Steve was thinking about was the fucking high he’d been riding since that morning, the look on Billy’s face as he breathed ‘Seeya, Steve’ and fogging up the window glass. He’d showered, and spent extra time on his hair, before he changed his shirt three times. He’d finally settled on a baby blue polo, white collar polo with green stripes and his chinos, with a zippered sweater pulled on over it for good measure. He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb in the arcade, but whatever.

He knew who he was searching for the minute he walked in. 

And when Steve found him, he was leaning against the Dig Dug machine where Max was already working the controls, her face lit up blue with the screen. He cut a quick line down the isle of arcade games and pinball machines, hands buried in his pockets as he sought Billy out with an easy grin. 

“Hey, Hargrove.”

***

Billy smiled back, his a little smaller but not by much, mostly just to save face in front of Max. Not that she would really have noticed because she had her fucking game face on, mean mugging the screen and moving the joystick like it offended her. He took a minute to watch her, pointing a finger in a t shaped line on the screen. 

“You’re not gonna get shit unless you go up a little more, too cocky,” he said, moving his hand out of the way when he thought he might see murder in her eyes, looking at Steve again, something warmer in his own. “You takin’ the brats home too? Sticking around a while?”

He’d missed Steve, couldn’t really believe he was lucky enough to reverse his fuck up. Ghosting people usually didn’t mean he ever saw them again, but it also had never meant getting flustered over someone holding his hand for under five seconds in a car while that someone was hungover. If he was honest with himself though, it wasn’t just about that. It was about the new set of fingerprints on his upper arms, wanting to think about just about anything else. There was a time once when doing this with Max was enough back in California, but now he knew what it felt like to be looked at like something worth—caring about. 

***

Steve’s eyebrows raised in apparent delight as Billy directed Max about how to do something better in her game – and Max was a total dictator about how she played her games, her way or the highway – but maybe Steve was starting to see where she’d learned that. Seemed like she’d learned a lot of her little quirks and personality traits from someone he knew. They acted like they hated each other, but sometimes Steve suspected it might not be that at all. And apparently Billy might play video games? Steve’d never actually seen him IN the arcade, he was usually always waiting outside or peeling away at the drop of a hat. Never actually participating, engaging, but here he was. Telling Max how to do it right. Steve was tickled about it. 

“Hm? Oh no, they’re all going over to hang out at the comic book store after this, then Mrs. Byers is driving them all back to her place when her shift ends. I’m off the hook the rest of the night.” Steve smiled at him. “Was planning on sticking around for a little though. You play?” 

The gaggle of guys were surging up, but they slowed a little when they saw Billy slouching against the machine alongside Max.  
“Hey Max,” Lucas said as he eased up closer to his girlfriend. Will was already eating this huge piece of laffy taffy and staring at Billy with really big, wide eyes, and Dustin was downing a cherry red Icee still from when they’d stopped at the gas station. 

“Why’s he here?” Mike was the only one griping, throwing a brief, annoyed look in Billy’s direction.

“None of your beeswax! Max snapped at him.

“Hey. My dudes. My man. Dustin. You know the rules.” Keith said, coming up behind the group. Pointing at a sign that said ‘no drinks.’ He was crunching down on some fucking pringles, slowly drawing one out of the canister tube as he looked at Dustin like he was particularly stupid. “What the hell is that? You can’t trick me that you don’t know how to read again.” 

“Yeah, yeah Keith just – hang on,” Dustin slurped at the straw, clearly trying to drink it fast enough so that he didn’t have to throw it away. “Oh – ah – BRAINFREEZE!” He wailed, leaning over to clutch at Steve. “Steve I’m dying.” 

Steve rolled his eyes at the ceiling as he half hung on to Dustin throwing his weight at him, praying for some kind of peace. “Jesus Christ.” Then Steve’s entire front lit up ice cold, and he got this look on his face like he’d just electrocuted himself on accident, staring straight down at the top of Dustin’s cap. He was gonna punt Dustin into the goddamn sun because HE DIDN’T FUCKING JUST? ”Je-sus CHRIST!” Steve gasped down at him again. 

“That’s why there’s the SIGN! Don’t get any on the machine!” Keith groaned. “Oh mannnn.”

***

Billy watched the kids swarm around Max like she was some kind of beacon, smiling crookedly as she kept going like she hadn’t noticed any of them. He noticed her moving in the direction he’d pointed to and looked at Steve again, shaking his head innocently. 

“No, I do not play,” he said, thankful Max was engrossed enough to not call him out on it. Though knowing her, smart little shit that she was, it would come back. His eyes landed on little Byers then, his smile going full watt fucking charm. “Hello, Will.”

There was something sort of comfortable about all of it and he guessed he could see why Steve did it, sort of. They were all just harmless kids, the kind he might’ve wiped the floor with once. Looking at Will with his soft little face and his sad eyes, at the way Lucas looked at Max and even stood close to him of all people, he had a hard time understanding why he ever had. Maybe Steve was rubbing off on him and—his hand flew up to his mouth to hide a cackle as he watched Steve’s shirt get soaked in red dyed sugar water, though the more clever part of him was already revving up. 

“C’mon, I’ve got a magic trick for that, let Henderson live this time,” he said, ushering Steve toward the bathroom. He locked it behind them and shrugged his jacket off, rifling through the deep inside pocket before pulling out a little square laundry bar, motioning for Steve to move to the sink. “Here, I can get it out.”

***

Dustin gazed mournfully after them, holding the now-empty Icee cup with the bubble lid knocked askew. “I’m sorry, Steve! It was a serious error but I swear to make it up to you! I can swear in blood if you need me to!” Steve was gritting his teeth against the cold, walking stiffly, and he was not especially thrilled to be covered in red slush – he’d changed his shirt three times – time down the goddamn drain. He didn’t reply to Dustin and as the door swung shut, Steve moaned and shrugged out of his soiled, zippered jumper – it was only a quarter zipper, so he had to get it over his shoulders, and it made his hair stick up crazy when he got it off. 

“This is not my day.” He said, shivering as the red liquid stained the entire front of his striped polo like the Kool-aid man had thrown up on him. It was trickling down his front, leaking beneath his belt, and he really shivered once it got farther south. “Holy shit it’s so fucking cold, holy shit it’s cold.”

He gave Billy a wild look, getting ready to reach for the paper towel dispenser to shove a few down his fucking pants. “…Why the hell do you…have a soap bar in your jacket?” Steve blinked. “No. No don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” 

***

“Nah, you really don’t,” Billy said, lifting Steve’s shirt and holding it over the sink before it could wreck his pants. This was going to be a little too difficult with it still on. “Alright, shirt off. I know it’s cold but it’ll just take a second. Off.”

He tugged the shirt up and over Steve’s head and leaned over the sink, digging the soap into the red stain and rinsing it quick and light so it wouldn’t stay soaking wet. Then he reached for the paper towels and put one handful inside the shirt and another on top, squeezing and twisting until he was sure it wouldn’t be that damp. It was sort of weird to be using all these tricks on a red stain that had nothing to do with much more intentional accidents but at least he felt, well, weirdly useful. 

He moved to hand it back to Steve to put on but swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat about halfway. 

“Quit distracting me, I have to get the jumper too,” he said quickly, eyes glued to the V of Steve’s hips, what he knew was waiting under his fucking yuppie pants. “Put your shirt on or I’m not gonna be able to do it.”

***

Steve watched, baffled, as Billy worked the stain out of the shirt. To be honest, his first instinct had just been to throw it away – it was ruined. He could just buy another one. He literally had – no idea or concept of how to get a stain out of something. Or a desire to. 

“I – you really don’t have to do that, it’s okay.” Steve said, standing there in his chinos and holding his sodden, dripping wet jumper. Dripping red all over the cracked tiles, a steady drip-a-drip. 

But as Billy turned back towards him, coming for the jumper next, Steve caught the way he looked at him. The way his gaze was almost magnetized to the crotch of Steve’s chinos, the V of his hips above his belt – which now had lines of red running down the tan, and he knew even his boxers were wet with it – something else too. The look Billy was giving him made fire race over his skin instantly. 

Steve felt the air itself change, grow charged, and he got a smile curling up the corner of his mouth. Even though he was still shivering a little, chest bare in the Palace restroom, nipples hard and skin sticky with cherry, he took a step back. Lashes lowering a little. 

“Distracting you?” He asked in an innocent voice, holding the sopping wet jumper a bit to the side. Like asking him to come get it. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” 

***

Billy felt a shudder run down his back even though he wasn’t the one standing there without a shirt on. He stepped forward like he was attached to a string, reaching out for the jumper and tugging it away. Instead of moving toward the sink though, he stepped a little closer to Steve, until they were almost flush. 

“Missed you, some parts more than others,” he said, his voice low and quiet. He let the jumper drop to the ground in favor of reaching up, hands falling on either side of his face. “That hickey went away. Feel like leaving me another?”

***

Steve sucked in a breath through his nose as Billy pulled up close, nearly chest to chest, but not quite – just close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of Billy like a furnace. He always seemed to run hot. “I missed you too. Missed you.” Steve sighed against his mouth. He’d wanted to hear that so much, so much. “An’ it must be your lucky day, ’cause I’m cherry flavored today.”

As Billy’s hands touched the sides of Steve’s face, the jumper dropping to the tiles with a gross sound, Steve’s eyes flickered closed. Relishing the feeling of Billy’s hands after a month of radio silence. He reached out to snag his fingers into the front of Billy’s shirt – it was weird not seeing him in a jacket, but he figured Billy must’ve left it back by Max in the heart of the arcade. He pulled Billy closer, but not close enough to touch Billy’s shirt with his stomach – he didn’t want to get the red syrup from his skin on Billy’s clothes; he seemed to have some kind of a problem with stains that Steve wasn’t gonna question. 

“Fuck yes I do.” He nodded, almost embarrassed at how eager he sounded or looked. Then he was tugging at Billy’s shirt, fingers urgent. 

***

Billy grinned toothily and followed where Steve’s hand pulled him, glancing down one more time before looking over Steve’s face. Those big brown eyes were blown to shit and happy but then he was a little more focused on the hands at his shirt. He moved them aside to pop the last couple of buttons off, pulling the tails out of his jeans and letting it slide right off his shoulders. 

“Better?” he asked sweetly, reaching up again to run his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip, tracing the dip on the top one. His other hand moved for those beauty marks, forefinger and middle finger covering the two he liked so much. “Always liked these two. Handsome.”

***

There was something ridiculously arousing about the way Billy only had to pop the last couple buttons, and the thing slid right off of him. Even though Steve’s cock had gotten chilled, it was making a pretty valiant comeback - stiffening in his chinos. Steve’s fingers chased the shirt away, spreading out over Billy’s chest like he was dying to touch him – pink and sticky where they touched at his skin, flicking his thumbs over each nipple as he leaned his head in, jaw tilting as Billy played with his mouth. Steve’s tongue darted out as if to wet his lips, lapping at Billy’s thumb, hanging open like an invitation for those fingers. 

His pupils spread even farther at Billy complimenting his freckles – it reminded him of that first night. When Steve had asked if he wanted to check them. When Billy told him he liked them. Nobody liked them, not even Steve, but something about Billy liking them – it made him want to like them. 

Billy calling him handsome drove him wild. One of Steve’s hands traced around to his left arm, circling to the back, running careful fingertips over the back of his bicep, the bulge of muscle – right where he had his mole, or birthmark? Steve wasn’t sure. “I like this too. God you’re so gorgeous, every part of you.” He talked against Billy’s fingertips, then kept his mouth open for him to slide them inside, head tipping back against the wall. 

***

Billy felt Steve’s fingers ghost along his arm and was suddenly reminded of the fresh marks on them, thankful Steve was otherwise occupied. He preened at the compliment, his smile sliding right off of his face when Steve’s tongue touched his thumb. It froze him in place, a stuttered exhale leaving his mouth before he made himself move closer. 

He pressed his first two fingers against Steve’s lips and watched them stay open, sliding them forward onto the flat of Steve’s tongue. Not too far, just enough for his hand to feel hot and wet, a lot more than enough. He slid his thigh between Steve’s and moved his free hand away from his face, fingers dipping down into his pants until he found what he was looking for. 

“Haven’t fucked anybody since you, you know,” he said, the light tone he was going for ruined a little by how breathless he was, fingers curling around Steve’s cock. 

***

Steve’s shoulder blades squirmed against the violently yellow and purple tiled wall as Billy finally moved his fingers into Steve’s mouth. The sensitive skin of his mouth buzzed with sensation and his tongue cupped beneath the foreign entities there. His eyelids slid down at feeling, not closed exactly, but definitely feeling it. He panted against Billy’s fingers within the cave of his mouth, and his tongue arched up against the pads of them, licking, salivating at the taste of Billy’s skin.

When Billy’s thigh slid between Steve’s, his hips stuttered forward, anxious for contact, for friction. He got it when that wide, callused hand got in Steve’s pants, wrapping firm around Steve’s cock – long and hard, entirely over the frozen ice incident. Steve moaned around Billy’s fingers, a wanton sound that he couldn’t actually swallow down. One of Steve’s hands dropped down to cup at Billy’s cock through his jeans, but it was a little difficult with that thigh pressing up between his, but he managed it. He curled his hand against it, rough denim separating skin. 

Those Levis were too fucking tight to get his hand in like Billy had with his looser chinos. Steve’s palm rubbed at the shaft through the denim, while he sealed up his lips and insistently sucked at those fingers. With his other hand he hung on to his shoulder. He nodded a little at the admission about not fucking anybody - but he couldn’t say anything back while he was currently trying to gag on Billy’s fingers, all wet saliva and a needy tongue. But he finally popped his mouth off of them, breathless when he gasped, “Me neither. Didn’t want anybody else.” 

***

Billy’s eyes were wide and fixed on Steve’s mouth, fingers moving just barely back and forth. Seemed like enough for Steve, that sound humming against them, all around them. They stayed there even when he felt Steve’s hand press against his dick, hips jerking forward, humping against Steve’s leg like a fucking desperate teenager. Which, he guessed, he was. 

Once his fingers were free he was reaching for his wallet in his back pocket, pausing at Steve’s words and focusing right on his mouth again. He looked from those lips to his eyes and back again, setting the wallet open on the windowsill behind them, his hand carding through Steve’s hair this time. The other moved from Steve’s cock to try and tug the chinos down a little, spur Steve into action maybe. 

“Yeah?” he asked, something a little hopeful on his face that he couldn’t help. “You gonna show me how much you want me? Fuck my brains out in this stupid bathroom?”

***

Steve was nodding, nodding and inspired by the way Billy had just been humping against his leg – grinding against his hand like he really fucking wanted it, and Steve wasn’t going to let him down. Steve grabbed at Billy’s shoulders and was hedging him backwards towards the mirror, by the sink, where his damp shirt lay waiting by the porcelain. 

“Wanted you so much, missed you – don’t wanna wait. Wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” Steve growled in his ear, a low, deep thing - low enough that anybody outside those doors wouldn’t hear them. 

Steve’s mouth finally collided with Billy’s. He’d been aching to kiss him. He’d been missing him all month, been missing the feel of him, the taste of him, even the smell of him. He’d been having wet dreams, and getting off to the feeling of being inside Billy. He’d never thought it would happen again, probably. But they were here and he didn’t want to waste another second. Steve kissed Billy back against the sink, all tongues and lips, sharing breath. Licking against Billy’s cute little cupid’s bow, nipping at his lower lip. 

Then he was undoing his belt, dropping to his knees because he literally needed the leverage to pull Billy’s tight-ass jeans down to his knees, then to his boot tops. He watched, breathing hard, as that shorter, thicker dick bounded up, finally free, bobbing there for a second against gravity. He couldn’t help but straightening his back a little, bracing his hands on Billy’s hips, to briefly lick along the head - just at the slit, tasting for pre-come. 

***

Billy quickly swiped his wallet up before letting himself be guided backwards, thankful it was less of a shove and more of an ushering. The small of his back hit the sink and he melted into the kiss, the tone of Steve’s voice ringing in his ears. The kiss didn’t last long enough but that turned out to be fine, just fine. 

He tipped his head up and blinked rapidly at the ceiling when Steve’s tongue ran over his cock, there and gone in a flash. It made hot desperation run all the way through him, tugging Steve up to stand as quickly as he could without being too rough. His hand left Steve to fish out the packet of lube he had stashed in his wallet, pressing it into Steve’s hand and letting the wallet drop to the floor with a smack. 

“C’mon sweetheart, can’t take long,” he panted, reaching for Steve’s pants and pushing them down as far as he could without moving. He was a little stuck on Steve’s mouth, still picturing those lips wrapped around his fingers, his tongue on Billy’s cock. “Kiss me again.”

***

How was Billy always so prepared for everything? Steve thought as he had the tiny pack of lube shoved into his hand. Steve’s cock twitched in more than a little bit of interest as Billy shoved his chinos down farther, his mouth hanging open as he panted out each breath, oozing anticipation . He tore the pack open with his teeth and oozed the cold liquid over his fingers. 

Then he reached around to grab at Billy’s thigh. He lifted that thigh up so that it was braced over the porcelain of the sink. Easily obliged Billy’s request. He leaned down so that he could get his lips back over Billy’s, his lips working, tongue darting between them as he sought out a tongue with his own. He kept the one hand on the weighty presence of Billys’ thigh, wrapping it underneath to get his fingers into the hinge of Billy’s femur so that he could really lift up his thigh and spread his ass. With the other hand, he slipped it between Billy’s legs from behind – fingers trailing over his hole. 

“Can be fast,” he groaned into Billy’s mouth as he felt the now-familiar pucker of his ass, brushing their noses together. 

Both of their pants were around their ankles or knees, and they were in this tiny grungy bright yellow and purple bathroom and Steve was about to fuck Billy over the sink and it was so fucking hot he couldn’t stand it. He was so hard, blushing red at the tip, leaking pre-come. 

***

Billy wound his arms around Steve’s shoulders to hold on, willing his body to relax and fucking quick. He was thankful for working out in that moment especially, could already tell he was going to kill his calves like this. Steve seemed like he had a...thing for looking at someone when he fucked them, not that Billy minded. It was just different, a whole lot different than always being bent over something. 

“Please, just one more finger and I want you to fuck me, I’ll be fine,” he breathed into the kiss, trying to sink down on the finger teasing against his ass. Easier said than done with Steve propping his thigh open, his fingers digging into the back of Steve’s neck like it might give some incentive. “I want it, don’t wanna wait, it’ll be fine.”

He knew it would be, that he wasn’t stretching the truth just because he was so fucking happy to have this again. He didn’t think he could remember the last time he was so turned on, fucking in a public place where the lights were actually on, with a strong set of hands on him that he’d been practically dreaming about. 

***

Steve worked in the one finger, until he could feel Billy’s muscles starting to ease around his knuckle, then he started in with the second – he tried to be faster about it, without actually hurting him – trying to get him ready with limited time. It was fast, and it was hot, and he was so turned on his cock was dripping down onto the tiles at their feet. The hands at the back of his neck were like a collar, directing him how Billy wanted it and how fast, and he liked that. He finally got to the point of thrusting his finger shallowly into him, working upwards with intention.

“Okay, okay – tell me if you need me – to stop,” Steve said as he eased Billy’s hips forward just enough so that he could get underneath him – he looped one arm down under his right thigh, letting the sink take the weight of the left, until Billy wasn’t even on the ground anymore, save for maybe his toe just barely touching tile. Steve might not look as built as Billy, but he had hidden strength. 

He used his free hand to guide his cock towards Billy’s ass, getting it just right as he stared up into Billy’s eyes – his own blown wide, enough so that the pupil had almost entirely eaten out the brown of this eyes, searching Billy’s for any indication if he needed to stop. Then he was pushing up, easing passed Billy’s rim with a slight pop as he got past the ring of muscle, just with the head. Steve grunted as he slowly used his hands on Billy to start to ease him down, judging how quickly he needed to go, when he needed to pause or stop, by looking up at Billy’s face. His mouth was hanging open, eyes at half mast, whispering “Y-you’re so tight - you feel so good, Billy. God, wanted you so bad, thought about you -”

***

“M-issed you,” Billy whined in response, taking a few quiet, gasping breaths to make himself quiet down. Steve bottoming out inside of him made it a lot more difficult, his head lolling back and his face screwed up in pleasure. 

Pushed up against the sink like this didn’t leave a whole lot of room for Billy to help, just one boot hardly scraping the tile floor. That’s how Steve had put him though so that’s how he wanted it, how Billy wanted it in turn. He slid his hand up into Steve’s hair, the other moving under his arm to grasp at the top of Steve’s shoulder from behind, forearm flat against his back as they started to move together. It was just a tiny movement of hips for him, and it wasn’t enough. 

“Harder, I wanna feel it for days,” he said softly, gasping again at the drag of Steve’s cock inside of him, eyes having a hard time staying open. “Come on, leave me a little keepsake, sweetheart.”

***

Steve nuzzled against Billy’s neck as he bottomed out, pausing for a second before he started to move, literally lifting and lowering Billy’s weight as Steve moved up. “Missed you too,” He huffed softly against Billy’s ear. He sucked a mark into Billy’s collarbone, with a few sharp suctioned pulls of his mouth. “Jesus, I missed you, Billy.” 

Billy was right, Steve couldn’t move his hips enough from this angle. “Okay, okay – here –“ Steve lowered Billy back down on the tile, sliding out of him with a wince as he lost that wet heat. Then he spun Billy around by the hips, leaning him instead sort of against the sink – from the front, both of their legs set apart – reaching around to grab Billy’s cock, giving it a few slick strokes from behind as Steve used his other to guide himself back to Billy’s ass. Once he was back inside of him, choking down a moan, Steve leaned forward and tucked his forearm flat against Billy’s belly, chest against the hollow of his lower back. The other hand kept moving over Billy’s length, all hot, hard velvet beneath his lube-slick palm.

He used the arm around Billy’s stomach to get better leverage and slowly slid all the way in from tip to base. His head tilted up so that he could watch Billy in the mirror with pupil blown dark eyes, his mouth pressed against the soft skin of Billy’s back. Then he pulled back out, almost to the tip, rocking back in with the filthy slap of skin on skin, eyebrows furrowed in desire, up on his toes with pleasure. “That better, babe?” He gasped, breathless, and trying to keep his voice down.

***

Billy nodded, bracing himself against the sink with one hand while the other slid over the arm around his stomach, fingers digging into strong muscle. This was a lot more familiar but the person behind him was worlds different. The look on Steve’s face was just like he’d remembered it, filthy and fond and perfect and Billy had a hard time looking up, breath coming out in pants. 

“Perfect,” he hummed, letting his head drop as he rolled his hips back. His fingers curled against the porcelain for leverage, hips snapping back until he was fucking himself on Steve’s cock, quick and desperate knowing they didn’t have much time. 

All he could hear for a minute were the slaps of skin on skin, those soft grunts Steve kept making, his own quiet whines. He’d missed feeling like this, being able to turn someone—turn Steve into nothing but raw instinct, the selfish nature of chasing your own pleasure. The hand on his cock made it easier to focus on moving back, trying to up the pace, eyes squeezed closed and lips parted. 

***

Steve was enraptured by the look on Billy’s face, the raw, open nature of his pleasure mapped into each line, the wrinkle of his nose, the clench of his jaw, the tic at the corner of his ajar mouth, the way his browline dipped low. Steve was painfully aware of the time ticking by, and he pressed harder against Billy’s back as he really set his feet and thrusted his hips in time with his hand working over Billy’s cock – and it was like some kind of a high, when he felt Billy’s hips rocking back into him with each go, upping the stakes, upping their connection.

Steve ate up the word ‘perfect.’ It made his hips stutter in delight, pleasure twisting in his chest. He got his hips angled just right to where he thought the spot inside was, the one that got Billy shaking, made him quake, as Steve helped to pull Billy back against him with the arm around his torso. He loved the sounds – the sounds of Billy’s breathy little whines as Steve tried his best not to moan into his back, the wet sound of their skin. Focusing on the way his cock slid into Billy effortlessly, the drag at sensitive nerves, how incredible it felt. He could feel it all over his body, really. He pressed harder, further, faster, finally having to screw his eyes shut as he felt a quick-building orgasm in the base of his groin. 

Like pressure in a soda can that had been shaken up too fast, and if you popped the top, it was going to explode. It felt like that. Steve’s hips suddenly went mindless as he started chasing the pleasure with something like desperation, but also focusing on trying to draw it out of Billy as well. 

“Want you to come for me, beautiful,” Steve gasped against Billy’s back, twisting his hand over the head of Billy’s cock. “You feel amazing, you’re amazing.” 

There was something about doing it in the restroom with dozens of people on the other side of the wall, trying to keep their voices quiet, that there could be a knock on the door and their time was brief that made Steve’s pleasure build fast, zinging up his spine. And he got to do it with Billy, which he’d thought wouldn’t happen again. 

***

Billy clung frantically to Steve’s arm, fingers scrambling for purchase on the porcelain as beautiful registered in the same breath as his orgasm. Like he’d done it on fucking command, body seizing up as he came up onto his stomach and Steve’s hand, bucking up into it long seconds after he was spent. He had to bend at the waist then, press his face down into his arm on the sink, the noises coming out of him too loud, too insistent to stop. 

Once the last of his orgasm seemed to be fading he kept that brutal rhythm with his hips, the one Steve was setting like he wasn’t even thinking about it. It stung in just the way he liked, had his head turning to pant against his arm, curls falling over his face like a soft curtain. 

He felt wrung out like a fucking towel, shuddering with each thrust, overstimulated but too sated to do anything about it. His attempts to meet Steve’s thrusts got sloppier but he didn’t seem to mind, those sweet, low sounds picking up like he liked it. Liked shattering Billy into a million little pieces until this was left behind, shaking like a baby deer under strong arms and hard thrusts. 

***

Steve didn’t last long after Billy. Honestly, he thought it was the litany of sounds that spilled out of Billy that really was the last straw, like he couldn’t get enough of it - it made his heart seize up. He only managed a few more insistent thrusts, desperate, broken things as he choked on his breath against Billy’s back, pressing his cheek into the space between jutting shoulder blades as he continued to feel Billy pressing into him, meeting him move for move. Loving the way his body trembled beneath Steve’s.

But Steve’s orgasm was like he’d touched a live wire, and his body clenched up against his, muffling a long, aching moan against salty skin, hips twitching – but as Billy kept his hips rolling backwards, it kept the friction up even as Steve’s hips went still with his orgasm, too weak with it to keep pressing forward. Then he slumped against Billy, one hand – creamy with come – pressing against the mirror to brace them both as he kept his other arm around Billy’s stomach, like a support. The bathroom was quiet for a minute aside from the sound of their conjoined, ragged breathing. 

“Wow,” Steve said like a little idiot, voice breathy with laughter, feeling a little punch drunk after his orgasm, leaning into Billy and pressing smiling kisses into his shoulder blade. Gaze flicking up to Billy’s in the mirror. “That was…wow.” He uncoiled his arm from around Billy’s stomach to brace a hand against Billy’s hip, tracing his fingers against the bone. Weak kneed and delirious with the boy in front of him.

***

Billy smiled as he caught his breath, sighing and savoring the hand against his hip for a moment. He could finally hear the sounds of the arcade and it spurred him into action, though not as quickly as usual. He reached back to push at Steve’s hip, just enough to encourage him to step back and pull out, a soft, almost mournful sound at the loss of it. 

It felt like everything kind of slid back into place, floppy dark hair in the mirror and a big hand on his hip like it was always supposed to be like that. He looked from Steve’s face to his sticky hand on the mirror, coaxing it down so he could run it under the water, fingers gently scrubbing. 

“Think the jumper might be kaput now, got distracted somehow,” he said, smiling down at Steve’s hand and letting it go after he was sure it was clean. He swiped a few paper towels and wiped them across his stomach, still leaning heavily against the sink as his free arm went out to the side, fingers wiggling. “Mind handing me my shirt?”

***

Steve had already gone soft inside of Billy when he stepped back, guided by a firm hand, but he was still sad to lose the heat – but it wasn’t lasting because he came back to himself, realizing that they’d been in here way too long and the kids were probably wondering where they were by now. When Billy took his hand beneath the rush of hot water in the sink, Steve peeked up at him, chin canted down towards the water, but silently studying Billy from the cover of his eyelashes. He reached up with his free hand to brush the low hanging curls that hung along the side of Billy’s face like a veil. Sweeping them behind his ear with careful, graceful fingers that only shook a little with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his joints like unsteady fault lines.

He shivered at the touch of Billy’s rough, callused hands against his own beneath the rush of water. He also grabbed a paper towel and pushed it beneath the water when Billy was done, wiping come from his own dick, and also getting some of the sticky red syrup off of his chest and abdomen. He threw it in the trash before he grabbed for Billy’s shirt, handing it over – brushing fingers on purpose. 

He shrugged a little at the comment about the jumper. “It’s okay, it wasn’t like, a favorite or anything. Gonna murder Dustin though. I told him not to get that fucking thing.” Well maybe a little, but that was okay. He’d just go get another one. “We could go to the mall over in Hillside one day, and find me another.” He smiled up at Billy, wiggling his eyebrows. “Go look at records or something.” He pulled his jeans up a little hastily, glancing at the door back to the arcade. He could hear people shouting on the other side, a ways away, and he suspected it was the boys and Max. Probably throttling each other over some game. 

***

“You asking me out on a date, Steve?” Billy asked, shit eating grin on his face while he threw the paper towels away. He tucked himself back into his jeans and shimmied them back up over his hips, not an easy task on a good day. “You know, the one time I put my jacket somewhere else is the one time I want a cigarette more than anything. It’d be worth Keith having an aneurysm.”

He turned to face Steve and leaned back against the sink, pushing a few more stray curls behind his ear. His own fingers didn’t hold a candle to the way Steve’s felt but it would do. Now that he’d mostly fixed his fuck up, maybe he’d get to feel it more often than not. He took the offered shirt and straightened out the collar, this time legitimately not looking at Steve still shirtless in case it distracted him again. 

“Okay, probably crowded enough in there they won’t care if we come out together. Think two teenage boys fucking in the bathroom isn’t going to be the first conclusion.”

***

Steve tucked himself away into his boxers and chinos, still soiled from the icee but not as bad as before – it was more just damp, not cold, though that wasn’t great either. But he was too distracted by Blly to really notice or care. Steve shrugged a little as he got the still-wet collared polo, stretched taut over his chest, clinging in all the wrong places. Steve shrugged a little, running a hand through his waves of hair to get them settled. “Maybe.” He said, little crinkles fanning out around his eyes. “You saying yes?” 

As Steve looked around the tiny bathroom to try and make sure nothing was out of place, he grabbed the jumper off the floor, tucking it under one arm. “Keith would have an aneurysm over anything, I bet he’s out there murdering Dustin with a mop. I’ll never get my chance.” 

When everything seemed in place, Steve sidled towards Billy, reaching out to tangle his fingers into those golden curls he loved so much, leaning down just enough that he could brush lips with Billy – a soft, brief thing that just left his mouth tingling. “Yeah. They probably didn’t even notice we were gone, really. You were just helping me with my shirt, with your trusty laundry soap.” He smiled against Billy’s mouth. “How are you so handy with everything? It’s like you’re prepared for anything. You’re like Macguyver.” 

***

Billy shrugged, something dangerously close to shyness like fire, working its way over his face. He decided to lean in for another kiss in lieu of answering at first, one hand leaving the shirt still hanging in the other, moving along the wet spots on Steve stupid polo shirt. He smiled back and didn’t think have to get blood out of my clothes a lot or you have to be prepared when your parents are negligent on purpose. He didn’t. 

“Gotta get my shirt on, sweetheart,” he said softly, making no moves himself to separate them, just a sweet rub of his nose against Steve’s. “Means you gotta step away for a minute. Promise you’ll survive, kids are waiting for you anyway.”

***

“Oh yeah, sorry.” Steve laughed a little, kissing the tip of Billy’s nose, and stepped back. 

His eyes roved over Billy’s face, marveling at the red blush that leached over that golden skin. He was trying to think if he’d ever seen him blush like that – he didn’t think so. He kind of wanted to make it happen again – sometime soon. He looked pretty in red. Steve grinned at him. 

“You’re cute as hell, you know that?” He straightened out his damp shirt by tugging at the hem, his voice going a little coarse when he murmured “Guess I can see why you’re the new king.” 

As Billy was turning to put on his shirt, Steve’s eyes were admiring the show - the way Billy’s abs rippled, pecs flexing, the roll of his biceps as - Steve paused, squinting a little. He knew the birthmark on the back of Billy’s left bicep, but - Steve’s brow furrowed a little, stepping forward. “Hey wait, you’ve got something - “ At first he thought it was from him, cherry flavored syrup that he’d gotten on Billy and he was going to wipe it away. “Think I got some cherry on you - “ He started, but paused when he brushed at Billy’s arm and the marks didn’t go away. They looked like fingerprints. Perfect fingerprints. 

***

Billy was a little busy processing. He wrinkled his nose at the word cute and almost tried to say something to—just get that sort of difficult tone out of Steve’s voice. Maybe tell him he’d let go of that title, that Billy had just scavenged because it was the only way he really knew how. All those maybes stopped short when Steve’s fingers touched his arm, kept touching it. 

“Not cherry, it’s fine,” he said briskly, shrugging his arm out of Steve’s hold to stick it through his shirt. He buttoned one or two more than usual in case the blush didn’t go away, creeping across his collar but made a little worse by Steve’s eyes looking over him. “It’s fine, it’s okay. Already happened, alright? We gotta get back out there.”

***

When Billy started talking ‘Not cherry - It’s fine, it’s okay. Already happened’ Steve’s face instantly fell, the reality of Billy’s situation coming back to him like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head, shocking him back into the real world. It was so far removed from their little purple yellow tiled pocket in the back of The Palace. 

Steve’s face crumpled, a little line forming between his brows, mouth dropping as he brushed his fingertips over the marks before Billy shrugged away from him. Where Steve’s fingers had been, like matching them up, it looked like someone had grabbed Billy by the arm – hard enough to leave red bruises, that would darken to purple later. He made Billy blush again, but it wasn’t a good one this time. 

“I – yeah, but, Billy…” Steve started. But he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to say that hadn’t been said a month ago, and he knew how that had turned out, and they were just getting things back on track again. He didn’t want to ruin that, and over the course of the month, he’d realized how badly his hands were tied in the situation. And with Max and Susan also in the shit like Billy’d pointed out, maybe the best thing he could really offer was for Billy to come over if things got bad.

But - 

There came a knock at the door. Steve jumped.

“Steve?” Dustin’s voice was muffled from the other side. “You okay in there buddy? I’m really, really, truly sorry, it was an error on my part. You were right. I wronged you and drew first blood, and I’m here to sincerely apologize.” 

Steve swallowed, eyes huge, and he pushed his hair back out of his face as he glanced at Billy – taking a step towards the door, hand outstretched towards the handle. Steve sounded a lot grouchier than he had only a minute ago, snapping - “Yeah man, I’m fine – I told you not to get that thing, you know the rule – “ 

***

Billy told himself that he wasn’t the reason Steve looked so irritated, that he was probably definitely catastrophizing. Still, when he swiped his wallet up and moved to the door he spared Steve a kiss on the temple, a gentle little thing he hoped settled the air.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, reaching up to smooth some of Steve’s hair down before his face went back to its usual flat big brother expression, his hand pulling the door wide open before Steve could do it. “There, he’s good as new. Jumper wasn’t so lucky though. I’m gonna check on Max.”

He slid past both of them and wasn’t surprised by the little pep in his step or the fact that Max was still where he left her. He picked his jacket up from where it was at her feet and slid his wallet inside, letting it drop again to peer at the screen. 

“Still kicking the shit outta these hicks, Mad Max?”

***

Steve held up a hand to try and get him to stop. “It’s fine, Dust, just – don’t do it again, shithead.” 

“I can guarantee that I will not, Scouts honor.”

“You’re not a scout, you’re in drama club.” 

“Semantics, Steve.”

He tried not to let the fingerprints thing get him down. He had a lot to be happy about. He was finally talking to Billy again, plus OTHER things, and that was a huge improvement over the last month when he’d been moping around like a little bitch. Dustin had been surprised when Steve had even been willing to drive them to the arcade today, but after last night, with Billy asking him to come today – how could he have passed that up? 

But the dark cloud that Neil presented hung heavy over Steve, because whenever he thought about it – or brushed against the man’s fingerprints, apparently – he had this bad feeling. This really, really bad feeling. One he couldn’t put a name to, but it was like when he’d been standing out in the mist by the school bus over in the junkyard. He’d had his bat and he’d set his feet, and he’d seen the demodog ahead of him – he’d thought he’d known what to expect, and what would happen – but they were flanking his sides, getting ready for an ambush. He hadn’t even known. It felt like that. 

Max grinned up at Billy at the nickname – he never called her that anymore, so she’d been the one to keep the nickname going – but she was immediately looking back at the screen, focusing on her Galaga game. 

“Sure am.” She puffed out her chest, sticking her tongue between her teeth as she rolled the joystick, moving her body with it, like that would help. “Wiping the floor with them.” 

***

Billy grinned at her, figured she wasn’t quite paying attention but that she could see it out of the corner of her eye. They had done this a lot, once. Before Billy turned into Max’s unwilling chauffeur at Neil’s very fucking insistent behest. It had been something that they’d do if Billy’s friends were busy, Max going in before him so he could get stoned first, staying in an arcade for fucking hours. After the day at Melvald’s he was trying to keep it even, not fuck it all up. 

“Fuckin’ right you are,” he said, leaning out of the way and glancing at Sinclair. Things were a little better there too but he knew he’d give him a wide berth from now on, just hope in the distance what happened to him wouldn’t happen to them. Max was a lot smarter than he’d been, though, Lucas too. 

***

Steve stuck his hands in his pockets, standing a little behind the gang of kids that were gathered around Max, watching her play. He tipped his head a little, eyes flickering between Billy and Max, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. It was good to see them like that. He also caught the look Billy threw at Lucas – Lucas had told him about it, in the car. Billy apologizing to him. Billy seemed to be all about righting things lately, Steve guessed – because he’d apologized to Steve, too. For that night. Steve knew, now, that there was so much more to that night and what had gone on. What Billy was dealing with. 

Max absolutely glowed with the praise, reminded again of when they were back in Cali and they used to do this all the time. She’d been feeling really good about things since they went to Melvald’s, and this was seriously the cherry on top of the sundae, even if she’d never say as much. 

“Hey we’re actually pretty good too.” Mike sniffed. “You probly don’t even know anything about it.”  
Will was staring at Billy again in this sort of startled-owl sorta way, arms stiff at his sides. He was always absolutely quiet around Billy. Mike thought it was a little weird. He pushed at his arm. “Hey, you okay?” He asked, leaning in. Will gave a startled nod, blinking like he was coming out of a trance, and looked at Mike instead. 

Dustin settled alongside Steve, rambling about making up for drawing first blood, and Steve was spacing him out. He tended to get bored at the arcade unless he was playing one of the football game machines, or messing around with the mini-basketball hoops in the way back. But he was still entertained, especially with Billy here. 

“HA! You think you’re good? You think I’M good? Billy could destroy you guys. I mean like you’d be crying for a week.” Max sneered as she smashed at the red button as fast as she possibly could. 

Mike snorted, making his most disgusted annoyed face ever. 

“Thought he said he didn’t play.” 

***

“You know Wheeler, I’m feeling pretty friendly today so I’ll exercise my willpower and not put your head in the toilet for that,” Billy said lightly, giving him a false little smile, turning a bit genuine when he glanced at Will. That kid always looked at him like the sun shone out of his ass, a reaction he generally didn’t inspire from people, and it made him stand a little straighter. 

He glanced at Steve and bit his cheek because he wasn’t going to get flustered around these little kids for being called out. Instead he leaned more heavily against the game, totally casual and disinterested as he looked at the brats. 

“How do you think Max got that good?”

***

Mike made this super offended face at the toilet comment. “You say that like it would actually phase me.” Mike sniffed. He’d been swirlied enough that he was dead inside to it. “Have I got news for you.” He wrinkled his nose at Billy’s little smile, then turned back to look at the game screen, clearly unimpressed. 

Will shyly stepped a little behind Mike, like he was hiding when Billy actually looked at him. Turning red, dropping his head to hide his eyes behind his bangs.

Steve dipped his head, too, hiding a smile as he kept his hands in his pockets, laughing a little to himself. He’d figured, earlier. When he’d asked if Billy played, and Billy said no. Steve’d known it. It wasn’t a bad thing – he obviously hung out with a bunch of nerds who loved video games, and even Steve had a Nintendo at home. It didn’t bother him at all that Billy would play video games, but he loved how it went against his entire bad boy image, when really, he was just as much of a nerd as the people Steve loved most. And he like this, more than he’d ever have expected. Having them all together.

When he glanced up at Billy, trying to smooth his face so he didn’t have big cartoon heart eyes, he didn’t catch the look Dustin was giving him from the side.

“Oh yeah? I’ll believe it when I see it. Prove it, hotshot.” Mike crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised. 

“Mm them’s fightin’ words…” Steve murmured at Billy, completely entertained from the back. He looked like his birthday had come early. 

“God Steve you’re such a dork.” Mike groaned at him.

“Me?” Steve laughed.

“You’re gonna regret being born, Wheeler.” Max cackled, imitating Billy by calling him ‘Wheeler’, and stepped away from the console. She glanced up at Billy with big, expectant eyes that said ‘go on, show them!’ 

***

“I am way too fucking sober to do—fine,” Billy said, watching those blue eyes get even bigger, Max’s arms spread out wide. He set his jaw and flapped his hand at Sinclair to get him a little further away, digging quarters out of his jacket and throwing them in as he pointedly ignored Steve’s presence.

Definitely too fucking sober. 

Being a fucking nerd about Galaga hadn’t really carried over to Hawkins, these hicks a whole lot more interested in getting wasted and shooting bottles out by the quarry for fun. It was easier back in California because you just went to a boardwalk and wasted time, everyone a little more lax about everything, a whole lot less pigheaded. 

The score climbed up toward 700,000 before he stopped trying quite as hard, just riding on hand eye coordination. If he bit his tongue and looked pissed in the exact same way Max did when she played, well, he didn’t notice that at all. 

***

The boys started out with Billy playing skeptical at first, sort of watching in a wary cloud behind his back, while Mike kept his ‘we’ll see about that’ look on his face, nose upturned. But as the score kept going higher and higher and higher, they started to shift on their feet, edging closer to Billy’s back until they were all gathered at his shoulders, peering under his arms or over them, yelling at him and yelling at the game and hitting at each other. Mike seemed perpetually offended.

Max stood to the side, watching them instead of watching the game really, her arms folded over her chest, the smuggest look ever on her face. And Steve stood behind all of them, hands cocked on his hips as he took a few steps closer to watch over all of them – he was taller than anybody there, if only a little more than Billy – so it wasn’t difficult. 

He wished he could see Billy’s face, but if anything by the set of his shoulders, he had the same killer dog with a bone look that Max got when she was really focused. It made something fond uncurl within Steve’s heart, and a soft look passed over his face as he watched his favorite people in a gaggle together. Even with all of the shouting and shoving, the cries both encouraging and horrified. 

***

823,320 was as far as Billy got before he fucked up, flipping the machine off and yelling bitch loud enough that he could hear Keith wailing in protest. When he looked over his shoulder he had four of Steve’s kids only a hair’s breadth away, Will’s eyes big and sparkly on him. He pulled out another of his full watt smiles for him before he caught Steve’s eyes, fighting the smile down and failing. 

“Shut up,” he snapped, Steve’s mouth still closed but he could just see it. “Don’t you say a word, it was our thing.”

His embarrassment was interrupted by all of the boys talking at once, pointing at the screen for him to put his name into the thing. His eyebrows raised and he smiled in pleasant surprise when the blank spot flashed next to 1st place. He entered in what he always did, listening to Max snigger next to him as he jerked the controller into place. 

***

“Told you.” Max preened like SHE was the one that had done it, laughing and getting her jollies as she got up on her toes to see that Billy entered in what he always did. The boys gathered ‘round the machine whispering at each other and grousing, while Steve took a few steps towards Billy after he’d flipped the machine the bird and practically kicked the thing. 

Dustin kept saying “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod” like a little mantra.

Steve kept his mouth closed, and he tried not to smile, but he couldn’t keep it out of his eyes. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.” He said, holding up his hands in an innocent gesture, like what? Not me. “Shitdick.” 

Steve laughed and ran both hands through his hair, head tipping back to show off the freckles at his throat before he glanced around Billy. “Hey assholes, we’re gonna take off. I need to go change, so, good luck beating the score I guess.” Mike was already at the controls, feeding in some of Steve’s quarters he’d given them earlier. They didn’t even look up at Steve, but Will gave him a little wave goodbye.

Steve’s shirt was making him cold, with no jumper or coat, and it was making him feel clammy - like he’d gone swimming and was walking around in damp clothes. 

***

“I’ll be back at 6, alright? Right at 6,” Billy said, leaning in as he spoke to Max. He got a distracted nod for an answer and almost, almost patted her on the back before he thought better of it, bending down to grab his jacket and following Steve out. 

It was a short drive back to Loch Nora but pretty much everywhere here was, not much time to think about how…normal everything had felt. Just for a minute. As he parked he noticed another car in the driveway, infinitely shinier than even Steve’s car and spotless enough that Billy wouldn’t even want to breathe too hard next to it. 

“Your old man?” he asked as he got out of the Camaro, remembering something Max had said about Steve’s parents. “Thought your folks weren’t in town much?”

***

Steve winced as they got out of the car – the Lexus was in the driveway, looked freshly washed, like he’d just gone to the carwash. He did it about every three days – liked to keep it shining. Steve sighed as he climbed out of the Camaro, instantly tucking his hands into his pockets – uncomfortable. But if they could just make it to Steve’s room, they’d probably be fine. 

“Yeah, he got into town like a week ago, some merger at the home office. I thought he might be at the office today, sometimes he does that on Sundays when he’s in town, but.”  
Steve shrugged a little but didn’t really actually reply to the comment about them not being in town much as he started up towards the house, fishing for his keys. 

He was shivering in the chill air, and he was gonna fucking get it if his dad wasn’t sequestered away in his Study– his polo was damp and wrinkled and his hair was super fucked up probably, and he had red shit all over his Chinos. Great. Steve fidgeted with the keys. 

“Um. Maybe he’s in his Study, and we can just…go upstairs.” He said, sounding more hopeful than he felt. He felt like he was actually deflating, a pinhole pricked in a balloon, as he got the keys in the door and swung it open. 

***

Billy made an aborted movement with his hand—maybe he could tell Steve to just put off changing. Tell him they could just go get stoned at the quarry or something, not walk into something that was making Steve’s face go flat. His hand dropped to his side as the door opened and he slipped in behind Steve, remembering to take his boots off before he went any further. 

With even the knowledge of the house being occupied by people other than Steve Billy could feel the nervousness prickling at his skin. The whole place suddenly got a whole lot more stifling and he was more than aware of the fact that he wasn’t really supposed to occupy spaces like this. 

“Okay, upstairs then,” he said quietly, looking at the tall ceilings for what felt like the first time, the beige blandness of everything. 

***

Steve’s face smoothed into a careful look as he got his sneakers off, thanking some god somewhere that Billy took off his boots and Steve didn’t have to ask him, it wasn’t a big thing like the last couple times. Steve had had to have the maid clean the carpets so his mom wouldn’t have a heart attack whenever they got home. She wasn’t even home now – it was just Steve’s dad. She’d stayed behind at the New York apartment because she had to ‘catch up on too much work, but I love you Steve, baby!’ 

Steve glanced around, on alert for a second, socks silent on the carpet, like he was trying to judge the best escape route, shoulders around his ears – “Yeah – yeah just, just in and out – “ Steve muttered over his shoulder, agreeing with Billy, then started to rapidly pace across the living room floor, like it was a race to get to his room before his dad saw him. He got halfway up the stairs. 

“Steven? Is that you?” 

Steve made a face. Who else would it be? He froze for a second of indecision, just keep going and not answer? But that would make it worse. Steve grabbed onto the wide, dark stained wooden railing, leaning over the banister. “Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He called down. “Just here for a sec.”

***

Billy paused on the stairs behind Steve, bizarrely worried about the fact that he didn’t know which ones creaked. It didn’t seem to matter though because Steve’s father was coming out of some room downstairs anyway, dressed like some fucking waspy J. Crew catalog. They had the same hair and the same eyes but this man’s were dubious where Steve’s were always, always warm. 

“Hello, sir,” he said immediately, running on pure instinct as he descended the steps enough to hold out a hand. “I’m Billy Hargrove.”

***

Steve’s dad was dressed in a navy suit with cufflinks, and a tie complete with a silver tie clip – he must’ve gone into the office earlier. Steve sighed and took a few steps down after Billy, forcing his shoulders to relax, and an easy smile to work over his face – plastic as it was. “Hey dad.”

“I didn’t realize you were having a…friend, over, Steven. Hello – Billy, was it? Grant Harrington.” His dad took a step forward, his eyes briefly flicking over Billy from head to toe like he was looking at a drowned rat, but he had his dazzling-clients look on his face, with a big smile with perfect white teeth, and it even reached his eyes. The kind that made people want to hand over their money and feel like they were in good hands. But there was something sharp in his gaze, something almost predatory, if you knew where to look. “A pleasure.” He gave Billy a firm handshake that was meant to almost break bones, nodding at him as he stepped away, glancing up at Steve. He held up the couple envelopes he was carrying. “Steven, when you have a moment, I have something to discuss with you.” 

Steve felt the blood drain out of his face a little as he caught sight of the letters. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Later, dad – we’re – “ 

Mr. Harrington suddenly squinted as he finally got a good look at Steve, a ripple of a look passing over his face like a disturbance over a still pond, but it was gone as fast as it came. Disgust. “What happened to you?” He asked, and although his voice sounded light, his eyes had gone hard and flat, and his smile had faded into a straight line, pursing a little. His tone got a little sharper.

“Well it’s a funny story – “ 

“I’m assuming you’re here to change. Why don’t you go do that.” Mr. Harrington said, and then the smile was back. “I’m sure your friend here will appreciate it as well.” 

***

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Harrington,” Billy said quickly, pushing at Steve’s shoulders to get him up the stairs and following suit. 

He couldn’t shake that sick feeling he had, like Steve’s dad had been perusing and didn't like what he’d found. The look he usually got was an angrier version but it didn’t stop him from recognizing it, from thinking it the whole way down the hallway into Steve’s room. He shut the door behind them and locked it just in case, stepping up behind Steve slowly. 

“I’m—“ he started to say before stopping himself, mouth shutting tight. They’d just had a nice time and parents were dicks, he knew that. Steve’s father was the kind of man who shrunk you under his gaze though, and with that thought he wound his arms around Steve’s middle, pressed his cheek between his shoulder blades. “Hi.”

***

Steve was embarrassed, felt bad even, that Billy had had to meet his dad. He knew it could have gone worse, and honestly, if his dad knew Billy was here in more than passing, it probably would have been. Steve knew he’d get an earful once Billy was actually gone, and he wasn’t really looking forward to it. He’d seen the way his dad looked at Billy. Hell, the way he’d looked at Steve. But he’d known that was coming, it was why he’d wanted to slip by without being noticed in his gross shirt. 

He was thankful that Billy herded him upstairs and to his room because otherwise he’d have kept standing there like an idiot talking to his dad. Steve jumped a little when Billy was at his back – he didn’t know why – but then big, toned arms were wrapping around his waist from behind, and Steve felt something within him ease as Billy pressed his cheek into the dip of his shoulderblades. Steve let out a breath he guessed he’d been holding, shoulders softening as he leaned back into Billy, eyes slipping closed. He placed both of his arms over Billy’s along his stomach, crossing them at the wrists to hold onto Billy’s forearms. 

He hummed a little ‘Hi,’ breathing in a deep sigh through his nose with a tiny smile. 

“Sorry I, should have warned you earlier - my dad…he…” Usually he said ‘asshole’ when he was talking to people about his dad. He’s an asshole. Grade A asshole. But in comparison to Billy’s dad, his dad was probably a walk through the park, and Steve didn’t want to be bitching about his dad when he knew he must have it so easy. His problems were nothing compared to Billy’s. So he trailed off, worrying at his lip as he kept his eyes closed.

***

“He’s a prick,” Billy finished for Steve, giving him a small squeeze before stepping back. “Okay, new shirt.”

He walked toward Steve’s closet and rifled through before he found the long sleeved dark blue shirt he liked so much, pulling it off of the hanger. It was darker than the Camaro but still the sort of blue he liked looking at, like the ocean that he missed. He held it carefully in his hands as he moved forward, helping Steve get the polo up and over his head. 

“Here you go, arms up,” he said, smiling a little bit and trying not to sound too mothering, shaking his head at himself as he pulled Steve’s arms through the shirt. What he said next wasn’t true, not really, but sometimes it felt nice to say. “Everything back to normal.”

***

Steve shrugged into the long sleeved shirt from his closet, wrapping his arms around himself as he tried to warm up. He smelled like fresh laundry now.  
“Total prick.” He agreed. “And I dunno when things are normal.”

He stepped forward to twine his arms around Billy’s stomach, interlacing his fingers into the hollow of his back, chin tilted down a little as he studied Billy’s face. “He’ll be gone again soon though, so it’s whatever.” He leaned down to brush his nose against Billy’s – smiling a little. 

“Have you ever seen Mr. Mom? It’s a good look on you. I like it.” He teased lightly, grinning as he leaned in to peck Billy’s mouth. Steve literally couldn’t believe it after he’d been getting the Mr. Mom lines and mother hen and #1 Dad jokes for like months now. “Thank you. For everything today.” 

***

Billy scowled and waved Steve off, muttering under his breath as he pushed Steve toward the bed. The expression didn’t fade even when he laid down to face Steve, just barely disappearing as he head butted his way under Steve’s chin, throwing an arm around his waist. 

“If you tell anybody I’m nice I’ll put bleach in your gas tank,” he groused, voice muffled by his favorite fucking shirt. All in all, not that bad. “Can’t stay long, just a handful. Sorry, sweetheart. Nice little make up though, huh?”

***

Steve laughed at his grumpy face, it bubbled out of him – uncoiling his muscles from when they’d tensed up around his dad. He lay at Billy’s side, tucked beneath his arm, his chin braced against Billy’s curly crown. He hummed low in his throat with contentment, sliding an arm over to loop around Billy’s shoulders, and tracing small circles there at the back of Billy’s neck. His jacket was so bulky laying like this, but it was the smallest bit of skin Steve had access to, so he took it. 

“Don’t worry. I’m good at keeping secrets. ’s okay, I know you need to go pick up Max. I had…a really good day with you. Even if the morning started out a little, uh, bumpy.” He nuzzled his nose down into Billy’s curls, breathing in deep – hairspray and cheap DIAL shampoo, with pheromones that came off your scalp, like an addiction. “Yeah. Yeah real nice. I didn’t think it’d happen. I’m really glad it did.” 

***

“Me too, Steve. I think—at least once every thousand years, something good can happen. Work out like it should,” Billy said, sighing at the hand on his neck. Sometimes it felt like his muscles were all just one big fucking knot but Steve’s fingers helped, even if it was just a little. “That’s nowhere near my best high score, by the way. You go to Pier 39 in SF and there’s SHITDICK all over the place.”

He nudged his head a little more insistently into Steve’s neck, rolling his own in encouragement, hand scratching up Steve’s back before grabbing his watch. Never could be too fucking careful, so he set a timer for twenty minutes before tucking his arm back to his chest, trying to enjoy these short minutes while they lasted. 

***

“Hopefully more than every thousand.” Steve smiled into Billy’s hair, eyes sliding closed as he huffed a sigh. He was tired, and he figured Billy was too – especially considering he’d apparently been up all night making sure Steve didn’t choke on his tongue or whatever. “You’re a legend back home, I take it? I think I’ve heard of that – the pier – is that where they have the breadbowls with uh, clam chowder? My mom talked about it before. I bet she’d like to talk to you about San Francisco, she studied out there before.” 

Steve stirred a little a Billy set his watch, trying to get more comfortable as he settled deeper against Billy, like he could sink into him. 

***

“Your mom, huh? Well, when I meet her I guess I’ll just have to charm the pants off her with my nice California smile,” Billy said, smiling before a weird feeling hit him, kind of like a sliver in his hand he couldn’t find. He shook his head at it and let himself relax, a little hum of Steve’s name all he said. 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but staying up all night had sort of kicked his ass. His watch beeped aggressively in his ear and made him startle against Steve, catching himself just in time so that his head didn’t knock into Steve’s chin. 

“Shit, sorry. You didn’t have to let me pass out,” he said, pulling back to get a look at Steve, reaching up to smooth over hair that wouldn’t quite cooperate. 

***

While Billy cat napped, Steve kept his arm around him, the other furled over his chest next to Billy’s, where he wrapped their hands up together. He didn’t drowse – he kept his eyes open, chin still atop Billy’s head as he studied the blinds over his window, as the sunlight slowly began to die. Casting slanted golden rays over them on the bed, Steve’s hand sliding up and down the back of Billy’s jacket. When the alarm went off, Steve tensed but didn’t jump, even as Billy lurched a little in his arms, head bumping the top of his chin as he jerked awake. 

“I figured you could probably use a little bit of rest after last night, making sure I didn’t swallow my tongue – maybe go to sleep early tonight?” He patted at Billy’s hair too, easing it back into place with a fond smile. He really was a good guy. He’d said the thing about being nice like he was joking earlier - but it was true. Steve’d seen more of it last night, and today, too. “Plus you’re really cute when you’re sleeping.” 

Steve leaned forward and down a little to brush his lips over Billy’s, careful, sweeping their lips together. A brief, sweet thing. 

***

Billy climbed out of bed reluctantly and motioned for Steve to stay there, thought it might be easier to leave at all if Steve stayed just a few feet away. He backed out of the room and knocked on the doorframe twice in goodbye, not sure he could muster up a sweetheart when he’d shown his cards plenty of times that day already. He could, however, muster up a shout of nice to meet you, Steve’s dad! in his most obnoxious teenager voice, though that was all for Steve. 

That night at dinner Neil passed him not just one beer but two after that for reasons unknown. Maybe it was some kind of penance for shoving him into the wall when he’d gotten home that morning or maybe he was feeling particularly familial. Billy didn’t question it, not for the next three nights that it happened. Just clinked their bottles together like it was normal, fell asleep looser than usual and thinking about Steve’s legs during practice, the way he said beautiful. 

Wednesday morning was different. It had been three beers before Neil broke into the darker looking liquid he kept locked in the cabinet. He didn’t offer that to Billy but he’d passed out a few hours later and Billy had pilfered it right out of his arms, drank until he fell asleep and woke up before the sun had even risen. Neil was in the exact same spot as before, on his way to unconscious or at least still plastered in his good old arm chair, swiping passively at Billy as he yanked a bottle of gin away from him. He didn’t know why but he had to get out of that house, stumbled out of his window despite the front door being perfectly usable for once. 

Old habits. 

***

It wasn’t like Billy not to drive Max to school. And Steve wasn’t particularly keen on picking Max up, even when she walkied him at the ass crack of dawn to come pick her up for school. Neil had been pretty obvious about not being around Max – and it wasn’t like Steve was gonna LISTEN to him – but driving up to their curb and Max hopping in the Beamer might be a bit much. So he parked a few blocks away, had her walk over to meet him. (The sidewalks were too icy for boarding, he figured.)

He dropped her and Dustin off, the only two he drove to Hawkins Middle, then headed to the High School, mildly concerned (mildly, right) about where Billy was. Had he passed out at the Quarry again? Stuck at somebody’s house from a party Steve hadn’t heard about? Was he in trouble? Did he get kidnapped by shady government agencies? Had he been eaten by monsters? By the time Steve got to school, fighting his better instincts to just go and sweep all of Hawkins proper for the guy, he was hoping he might already be at school. For some reason. Without driving Max. 

He was driving by the parking lot, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, scoping out Billy’s camaro before he literally went to the Quarry or something, when he saw it. It was there. Steve couldn’t help but be relieved. There were too many bad scenarios in a place like Hawkins, not like you’d expect it in a sleepy little town. 

***

The first chunk of the day was a fucking breeze, Billy had it fucking locked down. He’d filled half of a water bottle with gin and tucked it into his knapsack so it didn’t smell so strong. He’d stuck two sticks of gum in his mouth to ward off any suspicion. He’d shoulder checked Tommy out of whatever fucking concerned, kicked dog expression he was making, an indicator that he was not to be fucked with that day. 

In AP English he’d coasted through with his sunglasses on and his shoulders hunched, grimacing at Wheeler’s big fucking eyes on him until she looked away. She was a tiny thing, all sharp lines, short just like his—he left early, not the first time he’d done it. His stomach started to turn a bit after third period but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t survive, though chemistry was trying. 

They were making crystallized sulfur and Billy’s vision was swimming, hands clenched into fists as he let his partner—some bookworm junior who hardly ever made eye contact—swirl the beaker. The smell was really fucking with him, watching the yellow chemicals all move together and he was really going to fucking lose it when thank fucking god the lunch bell rang. He didn’t think he’d ever run that fast, not even during drills. 

He reached the main floor bathroom just in time to puke his guts up, the action making every muscle in his back seize up like it was squeezing his soul out. He could hear people rushing out of the bathroom and didn’t really blame them, felt a laugh bubble up and then couldn’t stop it, slumping against the stall. 

***

Steve was really confused that he hadn’t seen Billy all morning, although it wasn’t abnormal persay. He guessed that like, really they’d had only a couple of regular days after their whole make-up-sex-in-the-bathroom thing, but during those days Billy’d been around pretty regularly. More than they’d ever spent time together in school before – but Billy had AP classes while Steve was in the you’re-a-jock-so-we’ll-go-easy-on-you classes. They didn’t exactly run into each other a lot, even in the halls. 

“Hey Steve.” Came a voice to his side. 

A familiar voice, but maybe not the voice he’d been hoping to hear all day – looking for some kind of reassurance about this morning, because something was off about it. 

Steve glanced over with a grin as he shoved his books in his locker. “Oh hey, Nance. What’s up?” 

He guessed things were normal between them. As normal as they could be. Actually a lot better now that he finally felt like he’d been able to get over the hump of pining after their relationship – being pretty wild over somebody else had really helped, and Steve was glad for it. She was happy with Jonathan or whatever, and he was happy for her. Just wanted her to be happy. Now Steve could be happy, too. 

“Oh I dunno. Weird day.” Nance shrugged, leaning against the lockers with her Trapper Keeper and notebook assortment clutched to her chest. “You ready for lunch?” They always sat together, the three of them. 

“Why weird?” Steve asked, cocking a brow at her. 

“Oh. I dunno. Billy Hargrove was acting super weird in class – we have AP and Chem together, and I – I dunno.” She made this little look, where her face crumpled up when she was concentrating really hard. Steve’s stomach sank at the mention of ‘Billy’ and ‘weird.’ It stank of this morning. 

“Well, he seemed sick or something? And I swear he smelled like – he smelled like a brewery or something. He nearly scared Nelson Ferguson, his lab parter, to death. He went running out of chem like the school was burning down, and I think somebody heard him barfing in the bathroom, but I’m not sure.” 

Steve gave her a startled look, dread crawling up his spine, as he looked up, down the row of lockers, like he’d magically see Billy walking up. 

“Hello? Steve?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I gotta go, Nance – I’ll see you.” Steve slammed his locker closed and brushed passed her, not noticing the peculiar look on his face as he walked by. He glanced over his shoulder only once. “Which bathroom?” 

“Main floor.” 

Steve nodded his thanks with a quick wave and was gone. He made it to the main bathroom in record time, swinging in there, but everything was quiet – smelled like cigarettes, piss, vomit, and the powdered soap in the dispensers. Steve eyed the row of stalls, and he knelt a little to see if there was anything beneath the closed doors, covered in sharpie. 

“…Hello?” 

***

Billy’s head lifted a little because he knew that voice, definitely knew it. He straightened up to maybe push the door open but his stomach flipped again, spurring on another bout of puking. This one was pretty short, just a quick second or two that he didn’t notice very much except for his hand smacking the handle until it was out of sight. 

“Hiya, Steve,” he said, voice a little hoarse but mostly the same, definitely the same. 

He leaned to the side and shoved the stall door open finally, kicking his legs out in front of him as he adjusted the knapsack. Once he got it into his lap he rummaged around inside, yanking the water bottle out and taking a quick sip, halfway through swallowing when he spoke again. 

“Not feelin’ very friendly today, sweetheart, sorry,” he said, hiccuping in a way that sort of diminished how irritable he was trying to look. 

***

Steve was already approaching the stall when he heard him retching, but he didn’t quite make it before Billy was striding out of it like he owned the place - but wobbling in his boots. Steve had this big frown, those large eyes the picture of worry, and he slicked his hair back nervously as he tried to assess Billy with his eyes, flickering over him like he could somehow see some kind of damage – a bruise or something broken or anything like that – but Billy just seemed…wasted, Steve realized. Watching him take a sip out of a bottle. Steve knew a trick like putting something like vodka in a water bottle, or gin. He wasn’t stupid. His eyes narrowed. If he got caught, he was going to be suspended. Maybe expelled. And he apparently wasn’t feeling friendly, either. 

“Holy shit. Billy…” Steve said slowly, like he didn’t really feel like poking a sleeping tiger with a long, sharp stick. There was nobody else in the room, so he stepped closer to lay a hand over Billy’s wrist, right where the brown, ribbed elastic of his jacket was. “What’s wrong? Are…you okay?” 

He canted his chin down to get a better look at him. Nancy was right. He did smell like a brewery. Steve couldn’t really talk – he’d been totally sloshed last weekend. But they were at school. Steve needed to hide the evidence because if people were talking, and people talked here, well – if Billy got caught, he was super fucked. And with a dad like his, that was the last thing he needed. 

“That’s okay, it’s alright. Can I see your water bottle, baby?” He asked in a low voice, his talking-to-a-cornered-animal voice. 

***

“M’fine,” Billy sniffed, nose turned up as he pushed himself toward the sink. He stuck his head near the faucet and kept the bottle tucked tightly under his arm, hands splashing water over his face and scrubbing at his mouth. He ran some water into his mouth and spit, grimacing because the action itself was a little nauseating. 

When he looked up Steve had that sad puppy look on his face but the kind that was definitely trying not to look that way. The way he was talking made him feel slow, even slower than the world seemed to be moving. That little splinter was back but it was digging into his head now, muffled when he took another swig from the bottle. 

“No, s’mine. Don’t take my shit,” he spat, twisting his body away from Steve’s to shove the bottle back into his bag. “Gonna go home, day’s done.”

***

Steve was really trying to keep his face neutral, but he couldn’t help his concern from spilling out into lines around his mouth, and a wrinkle in his brow. He thought about that school counselor that had cornered Billy for four hours or whatever it was over missing time, and he thought about Billy’s dad, and he thought about him missing the rest of the day, but he was clearly in no shape to actually continue the day. What the fuck had happened? He seemed alright the other day. 

“It’s just lunchtime – we still have three more hours ‘till school’s out.” Steve swallowed, throat clicking his tendons were so tight as he tried to step closer to Billy, arm outstretched. “I’m not going to take it, alright? Just wanna help you. What’s going on? C’mon, talk to me.”

***

“Don’t. Don’t-don’t help me, I’m fine,” Billy hissed, frowning over at Steve and throwing his knapsack around, not moving until he had it resting against his ass. Far away from Steve or his helping. He could feel his skin breaking out in needles, all sharp and stinging even when the person in front of him didn’t deserve it. 

Steve definitely didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve seeing Billy like this. 

He shouldered past Steve and out of the bathroom, kicking at the door until it opened. Steve was just remembering the schedule wrong which was fine but Billy didn’t want to be here he wanted to be home and—

His shoulder collided with a solid, older body and he flinched, instantly shoving whoever it was. Fucking Mr. Mundy, piece of shit. By the look on the guy’s face he’d said it out loud and it made Billy sneer. Some older man trying to tower over him, looking at him like he was wrong, like he was doing something wrong. 

“Fuck yourself, old man,” he gritted out, fingers curling into fists at his sides as the man opened his mouth to start fucking hollering. 

***

Steve rolled his eyes at the ceiling, tried to take a deep breath and followed Billy out – the swinging door almost smacked him in the face behind Billy, and he had to pause a second before he pressed it open and stepped out. He stopped dead. "Oh shit – “ Steve choked before he was rushing up behind Billy, trying to put out the fucking fire that was starting. 

“Hey uh Mr. Mundy it’s totally cool, it’s fine, Billy is – he was – sick – he!” Steve tried, wincing, but the guy just kept on shouting at Billy with a variety of ‘young man’ and ‘calling your parents’ and ‘excuse me?’ ‘You watch your tone’ and Jesus christ it was not going over well. 

***

Billy heard watch your tone and it was like all of his vision went white. He was in his house but it was filled with a bunch of people he didn’t know. He was telling them to leave and some old man, some friend of Neil’s was shaking him by the arm, saying watch your tone. 

His hands shot out before he even realized it and thankful for Mr. Mundy he was absolutely shitfaced because the punch barely landed at all. He still slid to the floor in shock and now Billy got to loom, he got to have the leg up. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he yelled, fists shaking at his sides, fucking seething. He could hear someone, a woman, yelling something and he could see people in the corner of his eye but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was making that old man scared, just like he’d been

***

Steve froze for a second in absolute shock, maybe just as shocked as Mr. Mundy, though maybe he shouldn’t have been – he’d been on the receiving end of those fists, and he knew Billy could be mean. Knew he had a good left hook, even if it didn’t land properly with the guy all loose with gin – or vodka – Steve wasn’t sure. As Billy stood over Mr. Mundy like he was gonna fuck him up like he’d fucked Steve up months ago, Steve rushed forward, finally spurring his body into action. He got behind Billy, got his arms under Billy’s, tucking beneath his underarms so that his palms pressed against the tops of his shoulders. 

“Woah woah, woah woah,” Steve said on repeat against Billy’s back as he dug in his Nike’s and tried to drag him back, even if Billy packed way more muscle and weight than him. He figured he could take him by surprise and get him a little off balance enough to pull him away, faded as he was. 

“Billy, hey – c’mon – “ Steve was saying, pulling Billy away from the teacher on the floor, and people were fucking staring or running to get someone and some people were even crowing like they were ready to shout ‘FIGHT’ or something, but didn’t quite have the balls for it because it was a TEACHER and HOLY SHIT. He was reminded the last time he’d been pulled out of a fight - Tommy had dragged him away from Jonathan, because they needed to RUN. Steve wasn’t sure if that’s what he was doing - there was no getting away from hitting a teacher. 

“I got you, I got you, c’mon - “ He tried to keep his voice soothing, trying to will Billy down with just his words. Like trying to calm a rabid wild animal held within his arms, a hair's breadth from violence. 

***

Billy jackknifed in Steve’s arms but his limbs were made out of jelly, made unreliable. He screamed through his teeth and tried to kick back but his feet kept fucking slipping. He didn’t want to be held anymore, ashamed of how the anger was turning quickly into panic. 

“Mr. Harrington!” a woman was shouting, the same woman Billy thought he’d heard squawking from before. “If you could bring Mr. Hargrove into the office we can call home. Before we call the police.”

***

“Uh y-yeah Mrs. Lewis!” Steve half yelled at her to be heard over Billy’s enraged snarling, and what the hell did she think he was, some chauffeur service? He felt like he was trying to contain a fucking rocket in motion and she said it like she expected Steve to just walk him in there holding his hand or something, fuck. Billy was freaking out, losing his shit, and Steve was mildly surprised he hadn’t head butted him from behind yet – that felt like a Billy thing to do, and he’d been trying to keep his head tilted back. 

He managed to wrangle Billy by literally pulling him backwards towards the office and away from the teacher, who was just beginning to pull himself off the floor, adjusting his ‘spectacles’ and staring after them, utterly bewildered and brushing off his suit like he was personally offended. Probably was. 

“Billy oh my god, please chill, they’re gonna call the cops okay? Please c’mon, work with me here – “ Steve grunted into his back as his Nikes kept sliding as he tried to keep pulling Billy back, steady as the tide. 

Once he felt they were far enough away, Steve came to a stop, leaning back against a row of lockers, chest heaving with effort. Arms trembling. He was not fucking dragging Billy all the way there, and he felt like holding onto Billy was gonna make him panic worse. But he didn’t let go, tried to keep his arms around Billy so he wouldn’t bolt. 

***

Billy heard home and froze in place, stumbling a little but no longer jerking in Steve’s arms. He didn’t have eyes for anyone but—Mrs. Lewis, apparently. Not the people in the hallway, not Mundy. He had eyes for the person who was going to land him in complete shit with Neil and he almost wanted to laugh. Almost wanted to say he’s been getting me fucking tipsy all week, see if he even answers. 

He let Steve lead them into the office and while he didn’t try to help he at least shuffled along, shrugging out of Steve’s arms to flop into a chair, right on his bag. He could hear the bottle of mostly gin sloshing around and it took him some time to get it over his shoulder and onto the ground. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought because the next second the woman had the phone right to her ear, his stomach dropping with every sentence. 

“Hell—Ah, hello, Mrs Hargrove. We’ve got Billy here in the office,” Mrs. Lewis said, eyes flicking over Billy slowly as she continued. “He seems to be quite inebriated and he’s struck a teacher. This is completely inappropriate for Hawkins High and I’m afraid we’ll—“

Billy could see something shift in her face, her scrutinizing taking a deep dive right into fucking pity. He watched her fingers tap against the desk like she was mulling something over, just soft hums of affirmation before she opened her mouth again. 

“We’ll get him home, Mrs. Hargrove, and I’m—I’m so sorry for what your family is going through. I understand it must be difficult. The principal and I will speak with Mr. Mundy and explain the situation to—no, it’s no problem at all. Of course we’ll ask for you when we call again. Thank you, and again, so sorry.”

The phone hung up with a click that rang through the room like a fucking church bell, made Billy’s alcohol induced tunnel vision increase tenfold. He watched Mrs. Lewis’ hand slide across the table almost like she was touching him but not exactly touching him, her face folded in matronly concern. 

“Billy, I just spoke with your step-mother. I—we all here are just so sorry for your loss. I can only imagine what you’re going through.”

***

Steve’s eyes batted between Billy and Mrs. Lewis like he was at a tennis match, trying to decide where to keep his eyes. What was going on? He’d never even seen Mrs. Lewis just sort of melt like that and go all gooey, she was normally kind of a hard-ass. And wait, loss? Going through? What was Billy going through? Who died? Steve frowned as he almost visibly tried to work this out in his head. 

Mrs. Lewis adjusted some papers on her desk after almost touching Billy’s hand, like perhaps organizing something might help her focus, then directed her attention on Steve. 

“Mr. Harrington, would you mind bringing Mr. Hargrove back to his house? Do you know where it is? I’ll give you a slip so that he’s able to return later during school hours.” She pulled out a little pink slab of paper, and started to scribble out an excuse reason. She tore it off with a little flourish and extended it to Steve, who took it with a short nod of his head.

“Yeah, sure Mrs. Lewis, I can take him. I know where it is.” 

***

Billy tore the paper out of Steve’s hand, standing up so hard the chair fell backwards. He flinched at it but no one else did, Mrs. Lewis fixing him with that you poor thing expression that he couldn’t quite stomach. He reached down to grab his knapsack with his free hand, unsteady on his feet but determined enough to amble his way out of the office, shoulder bouncing right off the doorframe. 

He thought he might’ve said kiss my ass or fuck you but she didn’t respond, nobody did no matter how hard he kicked or screamed when it came to this. That’s why Neil had the right fucking idea. Maybe they could have a bonding moment getting blackout drunk on the couch. That’d be rich. 

“Home, sure,” he sneered, stumbling out to the parking lot and patting himself down for his keys. He twisted in the gravel trying to unhook the knapsack, watched the water bottle tumble out and it looked so fucking sad. Did normal people feel like this? Were kids supposed to act like this?

He couldn’t find his fucking keys and it felt like it must be the bag’s fault so he swung it into the ground, got dragged down to his ass with it. His back hit the side of someone’s car and he stayed there, kicking out for the bottle like he might be able to reach it like that. Not looking at Steve, because a little too much awareness was starting to settle. Something like shame. 

***

Steve watched the bottle roll. He kneeled down to scoop it up from where Billy was kicking out at it, easing it out of reach. He unscrewed the lid and poured it out a little behind the car, out of Billy’s sight, though probably not out of earshot. Then he screwed the cap back on and tucked it in his bag to throw away later. He slowly settled down next to Billy at the side of this random person’s car, tucking up against the siding as he breathed in slow. 

He put his knee up so that it might block out the space between their legs, and gently rested just the ends of his fingertips against Billy’s wrist, right below his digital wristwatch. He peered down at him in concern, but he was quiet for a long time. Billy looked so sad. Steve just let them sit like that for a moment, together, as if they could rest there until Billy was ready to get up and Steve could take him to his car.

He kept his breathing low and steady – fingertips just at the fragile bone at the edge of Billy’s wrist, a steady, warm weight, hidden between their knees. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it was bad – it sounded like someone had died. Steve wasn’t always super great at words. So he tried to be a steady presence at Billy’s side, offering him his companionship. Sitting in the silence of the school parking lot, joined only by distant bird song. 

***

Billy looked down at Steve’s fingers and could hardly feel the way they touched him. He didn’t like that, not being able to feel it. That’s what he’d been doing last night and today, though. He was still doing it. 

“Neil’s been—really—nice all week,” he slurred, frowning at where their skin was touching, turning his arm over once or twice to see if he could feel it. Still nothing. “Let me get kin’a drunk at dinner since Monday, said good man ‘n patted my shoulder. Not how ‘e usually does it either, didn’ sting.”

He swallowed against another wave of nausea but this one—it didn’t feel like the booze. He didn’t know why, maybe he was wrong. It was a deep down kind of sick and he couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Lewis’ face, how he’d suddenly mattered to her. Like she heard just the right combination of words to give a shit, all because—

“Mom’s dead, been dead. First day ‘f spring, n’—ten years,” he said, putting both hands out in front of him like he was counting on his fingers, all of them outstretched. “Whole life. Almost whole life.”

***

Steve’d waited until Billy was ready to talk. He knew that trying to actually get Billy to do something didn’t always work – usually it kind of misfired because ‘nobody told him what to do.’ So he let Billy come to him. Talk to him. And it worked. Steve settled more against the car, gently twining his fingers around Billy’s wrist, palm over the flashing : of Billy’s watch. He frowned at him, smoothing his thumb over Billy’s skin. His head tilted against the car door, so his profile was cast towards Billy. He kind of couldn’t believe that Billy’s dad had just been getting him wasted like, all week. Steve wasn’t sure he understood the dynamic there – the way Billy said ‘patted my shoulder.’ 

Steve breathed in a little more sharply when Billy said it. His mom was dead. Dead 10 years. Shit. Steve’d wondered, wondered where she was – nobody ever talked about it, not Billy, not Max. Steve had maybe kind of thought that she’d stayed behind in California – maybe she’d lost custody somehow – maybe she’d left. He didn’t know – he guessed that ‘dead’ had also been on the possibilities list, but he hadn’t looked at it too closely, because it was the worst of the options. Like thinking it might will it into reality. 

Steve’s hand fell away as Billy held his own out in front of him like he was counting his fingers and probably getting twenty instead of ten. 

“Shit…shit, Billy. I didn’t…- know. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine losing someone like that.” The closest Steve had lost was his grandpa, and granted, he often thought it had felt more like losing a parent. This constant black void in his heart. But he wasn’t going to make any comparisons to that – this wasn’t about Steve, or his gramps, it was about Billy and his mom and Billy hurting. 

“You miss her.” He said quietly. A statement, not a question. 

***

Billy shrugged but his face was failing him. It was a slow thing and everything around him was moving kind of wrong, his whole body aching and tired and sick. He shook his head next because he didn’t, he didn’t miss her at all and that’s why no one knew. Easier like that. Except apparently his version of easier was exceedingly fucking difficult. 

“I don’t wanna be here, can’t—everybody’s gonna laugh at me,” he said, surprised somewhere far off about how worried he sounded, even if his voice sounded like molasses. 

He did look at Steve then, his hands falling into his lap. He averted his eyes in almost the same second, only catching glimpses. Big, sad eyes. Something more painful and less infuriating than pity. Concern. Now he could look down at his hands instead, wonder if he’d wrecked things again. His face was still crumpling but when he ducked his head it seemed—better, at least a little. 

***

“Nobody’s gonna laugh at you. If they did I’d kick their ass. C’mon – c’mon let’s get you home, okay? Let’s get outta here.”

Billy never sounded worried about what other people thought, but he did right now. Steve’d get them out of here. He eased an arm behind Billy, as the way that face crumbling made Steve’s heart break – he couldn’t bear to see him so grief stricken. Even if he’d only glanced once at Steve, this brief, flitting thing. But Steve’d seen that look in his eyes – this haunted, broken look. He wanted to do anything he could to help him feel better, but he knew that this wasn’t something he could fix. Not really. He could really only try to take the sting out of it, maybe get him home, lay him out on the bed, and hold onto him. Steve didn’t plan on either of them going back to school.

He eased them both up to their feet, grabbing Billy’s book bag with the other hand to swing over his own shoulder. He kept an arm around Billy as he started to ease them towards the BMW a few lanes over, Billy unsteady on his feet. 

“You wanna go to your house - or mine?” He offered.

***

“Don’t wanna go home,” Billy said instantly, stumbling for the short walk to the Beemer. No way did he want to see Neil today, wasted commiseration or not. 

He slipped away from Steve’s arm to round the car, hand sliding on the trunk while he pulled the door open, sort of surprised he didn’t smack his head into the roof when he fell inside. The moment that he closed the passenger door it started to get hard to breathe, his eyes flicking out the window for one last look. No one around, just like before, like some fucked up silver lining. 

“M’sorry, sweetheart, sorry I fucked your day all up,” he said, giving Steve a wobbly look before he couldn’t anymore. He set his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands, every second passing making him feel like he was breathing through a straw. Like he was staving something off, something unfathomably huge. 

***

Steve got the driver’s door closed, and got the keys in the ignition. Turning on the engine to let it idle and warm up, because it was still March. First day of spring. As Billy furled forward like a flower in reverse, hiding its face from the sun, Steve leaned against the center console – pressing a soothing hand against billy’s back and rubbing up and down, up and down, on repeat, like it could help in some way.

“Don’t be sorry. Not to me. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You didn’t fuck up anything – I just wish you’d told me sooner. We could have fucked off to the quarry, stayed at my house – you didn’t have to come here. The invitation to my house is open ended. You can seriously come over any time, okay? We won’t head back to your place – we’ll go to mine. And hey, maybe we can do something nice, huh? Watch one of your mom’s favorite movies? Or I could make you something she used to make you. Like a favorite meal? I’m not super great at cooking, but I’ll try my best.”

He tried smiling a little over at Billy, but it wavered as if in a breeze, brow crinkled as he watched him bend over like he was gonna cry. 

“We can do anything you wanna do, okay? Even if you just wanna lay down for the rest of the day. I’ll stay with you.” 

***

“I—Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!—that was her favorite. It was a—B movie with all these badass women killing men,” Billy said into his hands, head lifting to look out the windshield. “BLTs, she always made ‘em when Neil was outta town, complained that bacon was too expensive. Made it perfect, cut it up when I lost my front teeth.”

All of Steve’s talking made him panic more, made his breathing more ragged, more painful. It did something else too, opened up some kind of floodgate of memories he hadn’t touched. Not really since right after the funeral, not unless he was wasted and by himself and trying too hard not to think about it. 

“Little—she was little, like Wheeler. Tiny ‘n had this big mane of hair, dressed like—like Stevie Nicks,” he stuttered out, watching the Loch Nora sign move past his line of vision. “S-sang Perry C-Como songs instead of lullabies and—“

He startled in his seat, wanted to tell Steve he had to stop the car, that they must’ve hit something. It sounded like it was suffering and how could he fucking hear it all the way from inside the car? He couldn’t even see it, everything was dark and his face felt wet and everything was shaking. Maybe the car was too, maybe something bad was happening and neither of them could stop it. He opened his mouth to ask Steve to help, do something when he realized it was already open, that it was him. 

***

“She sounded great, baby. She must have been an amazing lady – I wish I could have met her.” 

Steve’d always been told, and thought, that the best way to deal with a death was to try and remember them. Not to block it out. Ten years was a long time. And it fucking sucked, but Billy was acting like she’d just died yesterday, like it was fresh, and to Steve – it felt a lot like he hadn’t processed his grief in maybe the way he should. And if Neil was constantly handing him drinks to have him blank it out, well, maybe that explained something. You had to keep them with you, not forget. But what did he know?

And even if it hurt to talk about her, maybe it would help. Steve tried to hurry home, to get them to Loch Nora, before Billy started really crying – but they didn’t quite make it. Instead, Billy started crying, and crying hard, wailing with it, breaking with it, and Steve felt helpless behind the steering wheel. But he tried to hold Billy’s hand with the one that wasn’t on the wheel, tried to talk to him, but he didn’t think Billy heard him, even. But they were already close, close to home – Steve got them there, and he parked in the long driveway close to the door. 

He slid out of the car and looped around to the side, opening Billy’s door for him and tried to get an arm under him again, to help him out. Gathering him in his arms. But he was a mess, falling apart in Steve’s hands as he tried to brace him, crumbling like a sand castle. 

When he finally got Billy indoors and on the couch, (pulled his boots off himself) he tucked himself beside him, wrapping arms around him tight enough to try and hold him together as he shook. He shrugged a throw off the back of the couch to also tuck around them.

“It’s good to talk about her. To think about her. To remember.”

***

Billy shook his head, gasping hard for a breath that wouldn’t come. It couldn’t be good if it felt like this, made him this awful ball of raw nerves, barely able to walk or talk. He tried to curl in on himself but Steve’s arms stopped it, wrapped around him tight enough that maybe he could just lean into them instead. He couldn’t remember ever crying this hard, the kind that made his eyes burn and his head pound, made him feel like he was diving headfirst into a pit. 

“Said we’d go somewhere, said it’d be fine and she left me with him,” he weeped, trying to press his hands into his face as hard as he could. Usually a sharp sting or trying to feel nothing at all worked. It had worked for a decade so why not now? “Sorry, fuck, sorry, sorry.”

***

Steve propped his chin up over the crown of Billy’s head, rubbing a wide palm over his opposite arm where he wasn’t squished into Steve, holding him with enough support for both of them. His other arm stayed around Billy’s shoulders, just holding the other boy against his chest, breath rising and falling steady beneath Billy’s cheek. Once Billy started to lean into him, Steve just held him, letting the front of his sweater be darkened with tears and salt.  
He could feel, more than hear, Billy’s muffled words against his chest, and he pressed a kiss into the top of his head, chocolate dark eyes falling closed. 

But then Billy was pulling away to press his hands to his face, hard, hard enough to hurt, and Steve was reminded of when he’d dug the heel of his hand into his hurt eye before – when Steve’d pulled it away so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Steve gently wrapped long, nimble fingers around Billy’s wrists and started to draw them away from Billy’s face, like before. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay to be upset. Don’t apologize.” He leaned in and pressed another kiss to Billy’s forehead. His voice was quiet, and raw with the emotion of Billy’s tears.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have gone if she’d been given the choice. She wouldn’t leave you on purpose. I’m sure she loved you so much.” 

***

I tried to make Neil coffee after the funeral. I was just seven, I just wanted to help. I spilled it, just a little, and he poured the rest of it on me. It wouldn’t have happened if she was there. Billy heard himself crying against the words, realized he’d said them out loud. No one had ever heard that story before and the more he thought about it, no one had ever heard any of them. Not until Steve, someone who held his hands away from him but didn’t seem scared or even disappointed. Didn’t seem anything but worried and sure and there. 

It felt like he was really noticing Steve there for the first time that day. He wasn’t at home because he’d said he didn’t want to and Steve had listened. He was at Steve’s instead, somewhere bright and warm and safe. No one else was around and Steve wasn’t going to tell anyone how fucked up he’d gotten today or how fucked up he felt now. Something he knew for sure, didn’t have to think on even for a minute. 

He was exhausted. Beyond the need to nap in Steve’s car for an hour or catch up on sleep at the quarry. Everything about his mother that he’d refused to remember was in his head now, her cackle and the jingling of her jewelry, watching her play guitar on the beach. Realizing she’d been saving up to get them out, that she’d never gotten to. He drew his knees up to his chest and gave up trying to keep himself upright, setting his head in Steve’s lap, his face pressed into Steve’s stomach and his wrists still held by those nice, kind hands. 

***

Steve tensed up a bit as the words tumbled out of Billy – poured the coffee on him? Hot coffee. On a child? Steve had to choke down the hot scald at the back of his throat as he thought of the scald on Billy’s skin, years ago – he hated Neil. Hated him. He wasn’t often prone to hate, and really very slow to anger (usually) but that guy just really fucking ticked him off. He was pretty sure he might actually be the devil or something. He just wanted to get Billy away from him. Max and Susan too. The guy should go live in the middle of the woods and be a hermit and never talk to anyone, or like, run into some sudden death, christ. Steve had dealt with monsters – Billy had his own. 

“God, I wish you still had her. Neil doesn’t deserve to have you as a son, he doesn’t. I can’t even imagine…who does that…I know you said you thought he did it, when you do things wrong, but…you’re not doing anything wrong. It’s him. You were seven.” Steve’s voice wasn’t aggressive, he kept it quiet. Non-threatening. Aching in the back of his throat.

When Billy adjusted himself to lay more in Steve’s lap, he settled himself father into the back of the couch, releasing Billy’s wrists. Instead, he got his fingers into that soft, gold-spun hair, lacing them up and letting them rest like that. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, Billy? You can sleep as long as you want.” Steve got himself more comfortable so Billy could lay like that for a while, one leg kicked out over the edge of the couch, one tucked beneath his weight. 

***

When Steve tensed Billy did too, poised for something he wasn’t that sure he could handle like this. He felt like a kicked animal or something, cowering and just waiting until the pain wasn’t so bad, waiting to go off and lick his wounds. So when he felt Steve relax so did he, all the weight sort of sloughing off his shoulders. Like maybe he wouldn’t have to scurry off, not for this. 

He nodded against Steve’s stomach but not enough to dislodge his fingers, the sure weight of Steve’s hands holding his head together reassuring enough. 

“Okay. Okay, just a little,” he said, holding himself up to something he definitely wasn’t going to pull off. It felt like he could sleep forever, anything to not go home. Anything to just move past the day, stay just like this as long as he could. 

***

Satisfied that Billy was asleep, Steve relaxed against he couch back – the next thing he realized was that his head was lolling against the cushion, his neck at a weird angle, and he’d definitely left a spot of drool on the fabric. He blinked, completely disoriented, as he glanced at the skylights. It was dark out – or at least close to dark. He twitched a little. He usually never let the house get dark. 

Steve hadn’t been sleeping well – when did he? and he guessed he’d needed the rest too. He felt a lot better, besides the crick in his neck, and his leg was totally asleep – all white static – but Billy was still asleep in his lap, and it was totally worth it. He smoothed some of those frizzy curls and stretched his back a little, popping something in his back, then carefully got his hands beneath the weight of Billy’s head. He lifted him just a bit, enough to slide out from beneath him. 

He hopped on his leg silently, kicking the other to try and get blood back into it – it fizzed back to life with pins and needles and Steve hissed, limping to the kitchen. He flicked on the lights in the kitchen – squinting at the bright light then drowsily set about putting a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle on the stove.

***

Billy woke up to soft sounds in the distance, just someone moving around quietly out of the room and the smell of something nice. He didn’t uncurl himself for a few minutes, just kept his eyes closed and tried to remember what this felt like for later, knowing who was making those soft noises not far from him. It was a lot better than the paranoia of waking up in complete silence, of guessing what might happen that day. 

When he finally moved to sit up he was surprised to be completely sober and without a hangover, though he guessed the later wasn’t a surprise even on a bad day. His hair didn’t feel like it had fared as well as the rest of him though and he shuddered to think of what his face looked like, devoid of that cellophane he stretched over it to be palatable or at least noticeable. 

“C’n I use your phone?” he asked as he stumbled into the kitchen with a voice rough with sleep, only one eye open while he rubbed a hand over his face. Not too hard though, remembering how softly Steve had stopped him before he’d fallen asleep. 

***

Steve looked up from where he’d been poking at the pan on the stove with a spoon, blinking blearily at Billy and smiling sleepily at him - his brunette locks sticking up crazy on the right side where it’d been against the couch. Billy looked so cute all rumpled with sleep, hair mussed.

“Morning sunshine. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up, too. Um. Yeah” Steve gestured vaguely with the spoon at the phone, dripping broth. It was on the kitchen wall, with a big fat phonebook underneath it, and a bulletin board with a calendar – red x’s crossed off for when his parents were gone, and a green circle way at the bottom when they came home. “Go nuts.”

He turned back to the noodles and sniffed, thinking it looked hot enough. It was steaming. Two soup bowls were retrieved from the cupboard and he poured equal amounts into each, grabbing the saltine tin out of the pantry he and Billy had eaten out of a while back –along with two glasses of milk. He’d considered making a BLT but he thought Billy might throw it up, or something – soup seemed more of a comfort, and easier on the stomach. 

***

Billy picked the phone up with some hesitancy—with a lot of fucking hesitancy. He needed to check in though, mostly because he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done before he ended up in Steve’s car. He definitely remembered being in the office but even that was sort of a blur, and whatever surfaced on the other end of the receiver would tell him the rest. 

He visibly deflated when Susan picked up, leaning against the kitchen wall and closing his eyes, free arm flopping to his side from where it had been tensed. Never in his fucking life had he been happier to hear her timid little voice. 

“Is Neil—he’s not there? Do you think—I’m gonna steer clear of the house tomorrow. I can take Max to school if you—really? Yeah, if you’re sure...uh, thanks.”

He hung the receiver up quickly, like he might be able to get away from hearing Susan saying I’m so sorry, Billy like she actually meant it. All that mattered right then was that he was safe and clear, that when he opened his eyes again Steve had set out a little dinner for them, simple as it was. 

“That was fucking...weird,” he said, not sure if it was to himself or Steve, sinking into a chair at the dining table. “Guess Neil left a note, going on a guy’s trip the next three days. Probably just gonna get wasted away from the happy family but Susan—she’s gonna take Max to school. She said until I’m okay to be home, said she was sorry.”

***

Steve arched his eyebrows real pretty as he placed Billy’s bowl in front of him with the milk, tossing the saltine box down on the table, and sat in the seat next to Billy, pulling out a sleeve of crackers to crumble into his soup. He frowned down into the golden liquid like it held some sort of secret.

“Guys trip, huh? Whatever that means. But hey, three days? That’s good.”  
He looked up as he brushed cracker crumbs from his hands into the soup, smiling carefully at Billy – still not sure how breakable he might be from earlier. But he seemed better. He definitely didn’t seem drunk anymore, so that was a step in the right direction for sure. 

“Maybe you could stay here for a couple of days then?” He tried to keep his voice from sounding too hopeful, but he couldn’t help it – it snuck in there a bit. “And...I mean I think she is sorry. I don’t know her very well, but, I dunno…” He used his spoon to dunk the mash of saltines down into his soup, drowning them. “That seems nice. To give you some space.” 

***

“Don’t blame her, if you were gonna ask. Not her fault she married wrong,” Billy said around a mouthful of crackers, swallowing it down and reaching for the milk. The glass didn’t last long, drained in seconds and set down with a thunk. “Mostly I just don’t register her. She tries not to make an impact, probably just scared. That’s probably fucked up, but she’s not my—“

He stopped and shoved a spoonful of soup in to make himself shut the fuck up for a second, watching his hand shake a little while it held the spoon. All that sleeping and he still kind of felt like he was about to cry at any second, had to breathe in deep through his nose to school the expression away. Once he set his spoon down he fished into his back pocket for his wallet, slapping it onto the table, fingers carefully pulling out a photo and sliding it over to Steve. 

“Her name was Dolores but she made everybody call her Dolly,” he said, no mouthful of food to stop him now, fingers retreating from the photo reluctantly. Handing it over didn’t feel much different from ripping his arm off and giving it to somebody, but he guessed if it was gonna be anyone, it would be Steve. “She was a big hippie—almost named me fuckin’ Windy, like the song. Only good thing Neil ever did.”

***

“I mean I doubt she’s trying to be your mom, y’know? Family can be different, in a lotta ways.” 

Steve cracked a grin, looking up at Billy from the corner of his eye as he poked at his cracker mush with his spoon, taking another bite. 

“Dolly? That’s cute as hell. I’ll bet she liked Hello, Dolly! Huh?”

Steve reached out to slide the photo a little closer across the table, tilting his head curiously as he leaned in for a better look. He really should wear his glasses more often but it was fine. They were mostly only for reading, but he never wore them anyways. He squinted a little for a better look. “Woah. She looks a lot like you – look at that hair.” 

He gave Billy a cheeky look as he sipped at his milk. “Windy. I guess William is close – but I kinda like Windy too.” He laughed and choked on his milk a little, coughing and laughing around it. “She sounds like a character.” With his airway clear, he gave Billy a kind look, his eyes big and dark and thoughtful. “You look different. When you talk about her. It’s a good look on you.” Billy seemed brighter, happier, talking about her. It was like seeing a persevering, bright light shining through dirtied glass. 

***

Billy hummed suspiciously, not sure Steve’s definition of good look was the same as his. He smiled anyway, just a small thing out of the corner of his mouth, and took the picture back. He always handled it like it might disintegrate at any moment, carefully picking it up with his forefinger and thumb to ease it back into his wallet, shifting as he slipped his wallet into his jeans. 

“I’d like to. Stay here, I mean, just for a little bit if that’s okay,” he said, quickly tacking on the last part in case Steve had already changed his mind. “Did I—Susan said something about the office and that’s fine. But did I completely mortify myself and just not remember? Other than in front of you.”

He remembered the inconspicuous water bottle moving out of his sight and put two and two together, something kind of fond coming over him when he thought of Steve hiding it. Not his finest hour. Steve seemed okay with it though so he set about finishing his food, not all that hungry but more grateful than anything. 

***

Steve’s immediate thought to himself was ‘don’t be a clingy bitch’ but he immediately perked up, spoon half way to his mouth and pausing midair as his spine went straight in pleasant surprise – his torso rotated towards Billy. 

“Well yeah it’s okay! Definitely!” He coughed a little and tried to swallow his excitement and keep his cool. “I mean yeah. Totally. That’d be cool.” He said with his ‘don’t even care what?’ voice, but he couldn’t help but keep smiling into his soup as he took one of the last couple bites. 

He was running over a list of things in his head that they could do, when Billy asked the next question – his smile fell away as he turned his lashes up towards the blonde, because well, maybe in some situations some people might think it was ballsy or even funny that Billy’d hit the teacher, but, Steve knew it was because he’d been hurting – was hurting – and he’d never bring himself to laugh about it. It wasn’t one of those ‘years later you’ll laugh about it things.’ And christ, Billy didn’t even remember it. He’d been out of his freakin’ mind with grief. (The booze hadn’t hurt) Steve brushed a hand, briefly, along Billy’s arm. 

“Um.” Steve began to gather up their now empty bowls and glasses, busying his hands. “Well. You maybe punched the teacher. Mr. Mundy. Not like, hard or anything, but I think he was pretty surprised about it. I don’t think you mortified yourself – people probably just think you’re cooler now or whatever.” Steve shrugged and headed towards the sink, fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if that would actually reassure Billy, but he thought it might. Thought of the way Billy’d been worried about people seeing him in the parking lot - making fun of him. “Everybody still thinks you’re ‘totally tubular.’” He knew he sounded like Dustin as he got the dishes in the sink and went to grab the cooled pot off the stove, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. “Really, you might’ve unlocked God status at Hawkins High. Everybody hates that guy.” 

***

“Yeah?” Billy said, eyebrows raised hopefully. The idea of coming back to school with people talking about him was appealing once he thought it wouldn’t be I can’t believe he was wasted at school. He tried not to look too relieved and it wasn’t hard to do, suddenly distracted by the dish towel over Steve’s shoulder. So fucking endearing that he caught himself resting his chin in his hand. 

He snapped himself out of it by standing up and pushing his chair in, wincing as he stretched his arms above his head. Sleeping in his clothes was never his favorite despite how many times he’d done it. At least it was in Steve’s house, still bright and warm like it had been when he’d fallen asleep. 

“Bet I’ve got a pass for not coming in tomorrow,” he said lightly, moving closer to Steve and plucking the dish towel off with a smile. “You think you’d skip?”

***

Steve nodded with a bright laugh, glancing at the way Billy’s eyebrows raised – he knew he’d like to hear that, and really, Steve thought it was true. Something about Billy Hargrove drew people like moth to a flame, as long as you didn’t get on his bad side, which Steve seemed to be pretty good at. But maybe being on his bad side really wasn’t so bad. Steve carried the pan over to the sink and started to rinse it.

“Oh yeah.” He agreed as he started on the dishes, smiling over his shoulder at Billy, fingers sudsy. He hummed as Billy moved closer to him from the dining room table, stealing his best dish towel. Steve wrinkled his nose a little at the theft but he was cleaning out the pan and he didn’t have a free hand. 

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t be caught dead in school if you have a pass not to go – rather stay here with you. I’m assuming you’re drying?” He nodded to where Billy’d snatched his dish towel, feeling really good and warm and relaxed after the stress of their day. Sleeping had helped, and talking with Billy had helped, and eating had helped. What he really wanted was a really good warm shower and then to sleep the rest of the night through. He found that he slept really well with Billy there. 

***

Billy held a hand out expectantly, watching Steve openly until a dish was pressed into it. He spent the time next to Steve at the sink doing mostly that, watching Steve in little moments he wouldn’t have thought he’d get to be in. He thought about how happy Steve seemed to have him over even after his enormous freakout, how he didn’t seem put out or impatient about it. Maybe that was just Neil. It was easy to mostly push that thought aside like this, setting the towel over Steve’s shoulder again when they were finished. 

“You have anything that might fit me? Don’t know if anything you’ve got is gonna fit over my ass but I’d rather not make a habit of sleeping in jeans,” he said, warring with himself for a moment before giving in, looping their arms together gently and just standing still. 

It felt nice to have some peace and quiet for a second, even with the sadness still looming over him like a thundercloud. Billy thought his mom would’ve liked Steve, would’ve probably seen the soft and warm, handsome person he was making googly eyes at. 

***

Steve really liked having Billy over, even while doing such a mundane thing as washing dishes, or eating a small, rushed dinner. But usually Steve was alone here – in a big, empty house that felt more like a museum than a home. But with Billy with him, everything seemed warmer, the lights brighter, the dishes over before he’d realized it. Sometimes, he’d catch a small glance from Billy and return it with one of his own, a tiny smile ticking up at the corner of his mouth, bringing out a ghost of a dimple. It made him feel warm from his chest down to his belly, as if heated by the furnace of his heart fluttering.

He passed the dishes and pan to Billy, the spoons and cups, before he was drying off his hands so they weren’t all soapy and let the water drain down. But he was way more distracted with Billy, twining their arms together whilst Steve relaxed into it, feeling like he was stretched out under sunlight. He knew that Billy was still sad – and he knew that it was a hard day – but he really liked him being here, and he wanted nothing more than to help him relax and not be so…panicked, as he was earlier. He thought maybe it was working – this little slice of homelife that Steve had never really thought about before. 

“Are you saying I have a flat ass?” Steve asked, arching a brow with a hurt tone that wasn’t really hurt. “I can see if I can find something that’ll fit your glorious ass, jeez.” He snorted and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the corner of Billy’s mouth. “Would you object to a shower first? Before bed?” 

***

Billy shook his head, smiling at Steve’s expression but feeling a little—he didn’t know, quieter. He separated their arms but only to grab onto Steve’s hand, letting him move them out toward the stairs. The lights were all on downstairs and he thought about turning them off but remembered Steve’s room that one night, couldn’t really think of a good reason to stop holding his hand either. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, stepping into the upstairs bathroom behind Steve. “This one just yours?”

The bathroom was a little intimidating, as intimidating as a bathroom could be, anyway. The shower looked like it could fit a few people in it but not in the sort of cattle car way the showers were arranged at school. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it, even after spending nights at houses in this neighborhood, rich sleazy guys’ places in California. Here it didn’t seem to send that sick pang of envy through him because he got to have it too, Steve was going to share it. 

***

Steve glanced up, frowning from where he was grabbing the Faberge shampoo and conditioner out of the cupboard to set inside the shower. “Yeah, since it’s attached to my room, just me. My parents have their own, then there’s the guest bathroom downstairs, but nobody really uses it.”

He wasn’t nervous – he’d showered with Billy before plenty of times, practically every day at school. But somehow this felt different. This wasn’t being surrounded by a ton of sweaty boys while Billy heckled him – it was close, personal, intimate. Not sex (or at least probably not, Steve didn’t plan on it, Billy’d had a rough day and they were both pretty beat,) but intimate in a really different way. It made his breathing pick up, and he had goosebumps before he’d even taken his clothes off. 

He also put the nice bar of soap out that his mom got for him when she was in Paris that smelled like sandalwood. Then he was back in his room to rummage through his drawers looking for the Tigers pajama bottoms he knew should fit Billy ‘cause they were a little big on Steve, and an oversized hoodie, along with some for himself. They were all already folded neatly when he placed them on the edge of the sink, tugging his shirt off from the hem up. He didn’t really think about his bathroom much, he guessed. 

He thought it was kind of impersonal – not particularly relaxing. It was very clinical, he thought. The most interesting part about it was the maroon toilet and sink. He kind of liked tubs, but he had a shower instead, the kind you stood up in and had a tiled bench with glass doors. Steve leaned in the glass doors to switch on the water and get it heated up, chest bare. “Is it okay? The bathroom, I mean.” 

***

Billy smiled but didn’t say anything first, maybe a little too content to look at the way Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, to watch him squirm. He shrugged and pulled his shirt up over his head, shimmying out of his jeans with that ever present difficulty. No fucking way was he doing it laying down like usual. He didn’t like Steve that much. 

“It’s nice, big is all,” he said, shaking out his curls and realizing just how fucked his hair was going to be after this. Well, he liked Steve enough to let that slide and besides, he fully intended on not stepping foot outside until the thunder cloud finally passed. 

He slipped in past Steve, eager to stand under some hot water, curls be damned. The sigh that came out of him was stark fucking relief, shoulders slumping down so much he hadn’t noticed he’d been hunching. His head lolled on his neck until it tilted toward Steve, another, smaller smile on his face as he made one lazy, grabby move with his hand. 

***

Steve’s eyes lit up as his shoulders eased and he stepped into the stall to accept the offered hand – they swept over Billy standing beneath the spray of water, and really, it felt like the first time that he’d let himself fully appreciate it. The way the water ran over his perfect musculature, the arch of his shoulder blades under the spray, the ripple over his abs – when you were in a shower full of guys you usually didn’t just stare, but now, Steve was allowed to stare, so he did. His gaze eventually found it’s way north again to light on Billy’s blue, blue eyes and that little notch of a smile. 

Steve responded in kind, mouth ticking up as he stepped under the water – door closing behind him. The heat felt good and the steam was already building fast as he looped one arm loose around Billy’s waist, the other still tangled up all fingers with fingers. He stepped close enough to almost be flush, chest to chest, nudging his nose into the crook of Billy’s neck. Curls ticking his cheeks, and sighing in contentment. The hot water felt good, and it eased his muscles after a pretty tense day – as he hoped it would do for Billy. Seriously all he wanted was to help Billy relax and not be as stressed as he had been earlier. 

He freed a hand to grab at the bar of sandalwood soap to lather it up in a washcloth that was already inside the shower, building up a lot of suds before he went to run the slick cotton over Billy’s chest, following the movement with his eyes. A faint flush colored his neck. He’d blame it on the heat.

“Never really got to look in the shower before. Or do this.”

***

Billy glanced down at the path Steve’s hand was making, but he was a little more eager to watch his face. He wondered if Steve was just saying it but that wasn’t likely after today. That look on Steve’s face wasn’t totally unfamiliar but it definitely never looked that fond. Steve was sort of looking at him like a long awaited meal and honestly it was a nice break from thinking about everything else. 

“Huh, I definitely looked,” he said, smiling at the pink of Steve’s cheeks, reaching up to run his fingers over it to feel the heat there. “Always had to leave before anyone else, and not just because my hair would get fucked up.”

He moved in just a little closer, just enough to tuck his face into Steve’s neck, until he thought they probably looked like a pair of penguins twined around each other. His lips quirked up against Steve’s skin at the thought, one arm lazily hanging over Steve’s shoulders while he let his eyes closed. Felt nice to not be doing a million things at once for just a minute, strangely satisfied with staying still and letting Steve’s hand roam. 

***

“Seriously? That’s why?” Steve glanced up at him in a little bit of surprise and stamped out delight – he didn’t think Billy’d been looking at him for that long, contrary to what he’d said. It just didn’t seem like he’d liked him like that for that long, maybe, or – well, it seemed like he had, Steve just hadn’t known it for what it was. He’d rather thought Billy’d hated him. Fucked up his face to prove it. But he hadn’t considered it would be the opposite, and Steve knew more about that night now. 

“I mean I looked but,” That thing you did when you weren’t looking. “…I dunno thought you’d get mad if you realized.” He shrugged a little, still smiling a little, because it was so funny how you could construe something compared to what was actually happening. 

As Billy tucked against him, Steve tipped his head back a little to give Billy more space there. Long arms draped around those broad shoulders as Steve slowly ran the washcloth down his back, bumping over each vertebrae, and making sweeping motions beneath his shoulder blades, zigzagging all the way down to his lower back, as low as his tailbone – before sliding lazily all the way back up. He really liked them like this, pressed together like yin and yang, perfectly complimenting each other and perfectly shaped for one another. The shower smelled heavy, like steam and sandalwood from Paris, and it was making Steve lazy and slow with it.

***

Billy shook his head against Steve’s neck, nose moving up and down the long line of his throat. Steve’s fingers pressed into his upper back and he squinted in discomfort but didn’t move other than to turn his head, chin hooking over Steve’s shoulder. He didn’t think he’d ever admit that Steve was taller than he was but it was beneficial in that moment, made it easy to lean into him. 

He tried to straighten his spine out and winced again, shoulders sore like he had bags of fucking rocks in them. Crying so hard you felt like your guts were turning inside out did that apparently, more tender than they usually felt on any given day. The urge to do it again was right on the surface and he tried to sigh through it, nudging at Steve’s shoulder with his nose before setting his chin on it again. 

“Thanks, I think I’m still probably gonna cr—I feel better though,” he said quietly, half hoping the water would drown his voice out. “Thanks for that.”

***

When Billy’s back started to straighten out, Steve paused, chasing the path of the washcloth with his other hand, and he felt as the muscles tensed and rolled beneath his palm – furrowing his brow a little, mouth pinching. He tipped his head and pressed a kiss into Billy’s shoulder, above the arch of his collarbone on the left. Then another beneath the curtain of his wet hair, hanging just right for Steve to sneak another kiss behind the curly locks. 

“You’re welcome – I know it’s not enough, that I can’t really…help, but – I’ve never seen you like that earlier. I don’t want you to have to feel like that, that you have to – to drown it out. Maybe it’ll…help, to talk about her. To remember stuff. And you can always talk to me, about anything. I like hearing about her, and sometimes when we talk about those we’ve lost, it’s like…I know it’ll always hurt, but remembering them helps keep them here with us, a little. Maybe I dunno what I’m talking about, but…either way, I’ll be here for you. Every year, or any time.” Steve ran his free hand over Billy’s back again, pressing in slightly - he didn’t think he’d seen any bruises before. “Your back is seriously really tense – are you okay?” 

***

Billy thought you do help but didn’t know how to say it then, set his chin on Steve’s shoulder a little harder. His free arm moved around Steve’s waist, fingers gentle and barely there against his spine, tapping like some kind of Morse code. When the last handful of words sunk in he almost shrank back, completely unprepared to process them. Every year, or any time. He blinked rapidly like he was looking into a very bright light, definitely unsure of how to say anything to something like that. 

“Wait, are you—it’s fine, it kind of always feels like that,” he said offhandedly, shaking his head. “You’re serious?”

***

Steve pulled back slightly, just enough to try and get a better look at Billy’s face – his own had gone a little unsure, the edges of his mouth edging down in confusion at Billy’s tone, the little line still between his brows. He gazed down at Billy, trying to read what he meant without jumping to conclusions, which, he was pretty good at apparently. He did that a lot. He breathed out slowly and shrugged. 

“Uh well – well yeah.” Steve shifted his weight on his feet, water swirling down the drain close by. He blinked, like visibly drawing a conclusion behind each eye, dot to dot. Maybe Billy meant – like – well okay next year, or even ‘every year’ was, that was a lot of years. They weren’t even technically – dating – were they? Maybe Steve’d just kind of totally jumped to that conclusion. Typcial. Steve’s mouth gaped open as he tried to search for some kind of an excuse.

“I mean, I mean if you wanted – I know you, you know, have stuff, going on, and we aren’t really, we, and, and you’re probably gonna go to Cali and…but if you wanted…yeah.” He glanced away uneasily, wringing soap out of the washcloth with both hands. “Even if you didn’t, I’d still. Yeah.” God, he thought. Just stuff the washcloth in your mouth and shut up. Why couldn’t he just say ‘well yeah, why wouldn’t I?’

***

“I do—want, I do,” Shot out of Billy’s mouth before he could even think about it. Even though it shot a sick frisson of panic up his spine he couldn’t help but be grateful for the quick fire response. It wasn’t like Steve was making some sick joke, he’d remembered the way Steve had said is this a trick? in a voice much too honest to be fake. 

He edged a little closer again and wound both arms around Steve’s shoulders this time, head pillowed on a broad shoulder facing out at the shower tile. His chin wobbled but he thought maybe it would be less obvious this way, that his face could fold up on itself like burnt newspaper if there was nobody to actually see it. His hands could shake and his face could heat up if the water was running. He could stomach the idea of someone wanting to be around him at all if he closed his eyes. 

***

Something anxious that had building in Steve’s stomach dissipated as easily as it had appeared – washed away like ashes in the sea as the worry cleared from his face. “Okay.” He nodded, slicking some floppy, water-dark strands of hair out of face as he smiled down at Billy. “Okay me too.” 

With Billy’s arms twining back around his shoulders, Steve got his own around Billy’s waist, his thumb stroking against the dimple there, resting the side of his head against Billy’s, eyes slipping closed. And he could feel Billy shaking, just like when he’d been crying earlier, and he simply tightened his arms. Holding them together like puzzle pieces, humming some nameless tune close to his ear, throat vibrating against Billy’s cheek. He knew the song, but couldn’t think of the name - it was slow.

He swayed a little with Billy, like they were rocking, not really moving, and ran his hands up and down his back in that soothing way that he knew made him feel better when he was upset. He couldn’t see Billy crying, or hear him over the pound of the water, but he could feel it. 

***

Billy took in long breaths that rattled his ribs, exhaled as slow as he could, trying to understand which thing he most upset about. His mother was gone and she’d never get to see the sort of person he’d grown into—he was pretty grateful for that, not sure she’d be happy about it. But she’d also never get to see Steve, maybe tell him that they fit well together, tell Neil to go fuck himself and let Billy live in a world where they could hold hands on a couch with other people around. 

Then there was the idea that Steve—beyond fucking him, actually wanted him around. He’d been told he inspired a lot of extreme reactions from people, almost never good unless it had to do with sex. It had even been something he was happy to attain, to coax out of people. Steve insinuating years of dealing with Billy, with every ugly little thing he had in him, that rattled him worse than breathing did. 

“You use organic shampoo,” he said, laughing against Steve’s shoulder even though his voice was a little wobbly, a little wet. 

***

“It’s Faberge Organics.” Steve smiled a little, feeling Billy’s laugh huff against his shoulder, even if it wavered like it wasn’t sure if it was really a laugh or not. “Totally worth it. You should try it. It’ll change your life.” He turned his head a little to kiss at Billy’s ear before he reached for the bottle with one arm, groping so that he could keep hanging on to Billy with the other. He got his hands on it and eased it over – still plastered up against Billy – to ooze some into his palm, cap flicked up. 

“Here - let me?” With enough in his hand to bathe the hair of a small army, he lathered it up in his hands and leaned back, giving himself space to work his hands into Billy’s hair. He was far enough back that he could see Billy’s face now, crumpled up, eyes puffy and red, nose red. Steve soothed his fingers back through Billy’s hair, from the hairline backwards – blunt nails scraping against his scalp in that way that made goosebumps rise. He wasn’t gonna tell Billy not to cry, or anything like that – he thought it was good that he was crying, it was a lot better than drinking himself into not feeling it. And even if his own dad said boys didn’t cry, men didn’t cry, Steve kind of thought maybe they should.That was how you processed stuff or whatever. Even if he found it difficult himself. Steve never cried over Nancy - last time he remembered was when his gramps died.

He leaned forward to gently press the softest of kisses against each of Billy’s swollen eyelids as he lathered the shampoo into his hair, tilting his head back with his palms so that he wouldn’t get the suds in his eyes. He liked having his hands full of Billy’s hair, all slick strands coiled around his fingers, massaging into Billy’s scalp. 

***

Billy sniffed harshly but didn’t pull away, maintaining eye contact until his head was tilted back. Then he let them close and really felt it, the exhaustion of the day, of all the days leading up to it. The clink of his beer bottle with Neil’s, the pat to his back like Neil was proud of him for—what? Trying to forget? Not doing what he was doing now, crying with his head in the hands of someone who wanted to stick around?

“Gonna have Shirley Temple hair after this, you’re lucky I like you,” he said, going for light even though his voice was still thin, his smile thin too. “Thank you. I’m like a fucking—sieve for tears, Jesus. Tired, sweetheart.”

He swallowed, curled and uncurled his fingers against the back of Steve’s neck. Couldn’t really recall anything as relaxing as Steve’s hands in his hair. The day was almost over, almost actually fucking over. Just a little longer, and he didn’t really mind Steve deciding when it was. 

***

“You really don’t have to thank me, Billy. I’m just glad you’re with me. Cry as much as you want to, okay? It’s good to get it out.” 

He got Billy a little more under the spray, just his hair, and rinsed away the pale cream lather. He added a little conditioner to be safe, rinsed that too – because maybe he really did want to see the Shirley Temple hair, and the conditioner gave him better odds – then he quickly soaped himself up and rinsed off, keeping one hand wrapped up in Billy’s while he did that. Didn’t break contact, ‘cause he thought maybe Billy needed it. 

“Okay, babe – I won’t keep you up, huh? Let’s go to bed. I’m fucking wiped too.” He made a little face, because he was tired. The second he turned off the hot water, he shivered at the sudden temperature change, even with the steam still hanging in the air. But there was a hoodie and pj bottoms waiting for him, he remembered eagerly. For both of them. 

***

Billy yawned and stepped out of the shower, reaching for a nearby towel and draping it over Steve’s shoulder with his free hand. He wouldn’t break the contact either, felt anxious to let go even once he’d grabbed a towel for himself and dried off. He almost asked if maybe they could just sleep naked but there was something enticing about Steve’s clothes laid out for him, something that had him letting go. 

The sweatpants did fit over his ass, as it turned out, and the sweatshirt was a little baggy. It took no fucking time at all for his hair to do exactly what he thought it would, thick ringlets poking out and no way to tame them. He pulled the hood up and over his head as he glanced at himself in the mirror, letting out a long suffering sigh. 

“Soft,” he mused, closing his eyes for a second, fingers hiding in the stretched wrists of the sweatshirt. He felt a lot younger in clothes like this, or maybe just his real age. Maybe just a teenager sleeping over somewhere. 

***

Steve burrowed into his own gray hoodie and pj bottoms, Hawkins High and the head of a tiger on the right thigh, and studied Billy from beneath the hood. He felt something big swell in his chest – something soft and fragile and too-large, something irreplaceable. Seeing Billy like this – completely open, walls down, eyes still red and puffy from tears, and seeming so much younger than he normally did. 

Somebody that Steve would have been friends with instantly the second Billy rolled up his camaro, Steve thought.

And it was a different feeling than when he’d first seen Billy, different than the feelings on the court, or waiting outside of the arcade and waiting for a glimpse of the camaro, and different even than the first few times they’d fucked, or in the Palace bathroom, or even watching Billy play Galaga. Just…different. Entirely. It made Steve want to take care of Billy. More than anyone maybe in the world. It was almost overwhelming. Not that Steve thought he was the Grinch or anything, but it was like in the book where it said his heart grew three sizes. It was almost painful. Steve had to swallow and get the door open, get out of the bathroom. 

He got Billy and himself into the room, but kept the lights on. “Be right back, ‘kay?” He headed into the hall to turn up the thermostat – he hated the cold. 

***

Billy nodded and watched Steve go out of the room over his shoulder. He felt worried, bizarrely worried for a moment that he was just going to be left there. Grief was doing something to him, stretching and twisting time, making him afraid of things he wasn’t usually so afraid of, at least not on such a surface level. He remembered the look on Steve’s face though, amounting to every other thing Steve had given him so far. 

Soft, sure, and fond. 

The next thing he knew he was laying in Steve’s bed, curled up on himself. He couldn’t remember wearing anything like a hoodie since sports as a kid, some baseball hoodie he’d skateboard in. Now it was more about wearing as little as possible, comfortable about it but always with something niggling in the back of his mind, something sort of somber about it. This was nice, for a moment, being able to hide in something soft, something that smelled like Steve. 

***

Steve sighed sleepily as he got back to the bed, smiling at Billy laying on top of the covers. But the smile faltered a little at how Billy was curled, more in a fetal position than anything – like he was trying to keep the world at bay. 

“Move a lil’, baby – gonna pull the blankets over you.” He got ready to pull the covers out so that they could crawl under them, where they were tucked in neatly at the sides. When he got the covers down far enough he slid over the mattress, closer to Billy, and tucked the covers up as far as their waists. He furled close to Billy like a flower moves towards the sun, bringing them face to face. Steve’s hair was still wet, and he felt sort of chilled, but at the same time it made the hoodie and sweats all the more comfortable. 

He got close enough to rest his hand gently at Billy’s waist, curling his shoulders towards him and briefly brushing their noses together. His lashes fluttered tiredly, ready to fall back into the dark abyss of sleep that seemed to easy to find – and keep – when he was sleeping near Billy. Keeping nightmares at bay. 

“You gonna be okay tonight? Do you need anything?”

***

Billy shook his head, their noses touching again and his eyes falling closed. He could feel the sadness mounting again, like some sort of tidal wave he didn’t have any hope of scurrying away from. He only hoped he’d fall asleep before it really fell over him, reached forward and closed his fingers around the front of Steve’s sweatshirt. 

“This—this is fine, this is good,” he said softly, fingers flexing once before they relaxed, exhaustion more than anything lulling him to sleep. 

He dreamed about his mother, all of her hair and the sound of her jewelry clinking together. He dreamed about what she might’ve looked like after her car accident, what she would’ve looked like if they’d been able to have an open casket. He dreamed about what she might think of him now, of gripping a hand a little bigger than his own. 

***

Morning sunlight was filtering in through the blinds, but it was muted – like maybe it might be cloudy outside. It made it feel much earlier than it must be, because although it felt like six AM, the alarm clock at the side of the bed glared 10:30 in bright red, digital letters. 

Steve stirred beneath the covers, somehow having gotten his head under there, with it butted up against a warm chest. He blinked himself awake, slowly, slowly, and for a second he was confused about where he was an what was going on – usually he woke up very much alone, but he was so warm and comfortable, and he never wanted to move. He stiffened for a moment before he caught that familiar Billy smell, and in the muted light beneath the covers, he knew that well-sculpted chest anywhere - even hidden underneath Steve’s own hoodie. Everything from last night, and yesterday, came back to him in a rush of images and emotions and he tried to block it out to enjoy the moment more. 

He hummed and buried his nose farther into Billy’s chest, huffing out a contented sigh. He could stay here forever, he figured, had no desire nor need to ever leave this cocoon of warm, yummy smelling delight. He wiggled and got his toes pressed up against Billy’s shins, breathing in deep and considering going back to sleep as he tightened his hold around Billy’s waist with one arm, the other curled up protectively against his own chest. 

***

Billy had been awake since 10, a little surprised by how long he’d slept, though he guessed it wasn’t every day you decked a teacher when you were drunk on gin and grief. There were better things to remember even if the sadness was still there, a lot thinner but still present. Steve washing his hair. Steve saying every year like it was easy to say. Steve’s arm around his waist as he fell asleep. 

He reached down into the covers when he felt Steve stirring, blindly dipping into Steve’s hood to card through his hair. It was definitely the best sleep he’d gotten in a while but he could’ve slept forever like this, Steve pressed up against him like something worth holding on to. 

“Good morning,” he said, down to the shape still hidden under the blankets, trying to slowly urge Steve up to face him. “Lemme see you, sweetheart.”

***

Steve was generally incoherent in the mornings. A fond term from Dustin was ‘Zombie’ if Steve was running late to pick him up. It took him at least twenty minutes to be able to form more than one word, and that was about enough time to string three together. Progress. At least an hour for a sentence, and that was once he’d had this coffee. 

He was not a morning person. 

Steve mumbled something incoherent into Billy’s chest as he eased him up, following those warm hands into the muted sunlight, eyes drifting closed and then open again as he faded in and out of focus on Billy. “Mmm.” He articulated and smiled drowsily. He couldn’t believe how much he’d slept. It had been glorious. He felt like he'd caught up on a few days, perhaps a week of rest, because they’d actually gone to bed pretty early last night. 

Once Steve’s head had popped above the covers, he clung closer to Billy like a little koala, his hair sticking up like a wild mohawk as he mumbled something like ‘mornin’,’ against Billy’s mouth as he clumsily pressed a kiss there. Then his eyes closed as he fully prepared to sleep again. 

***

Billy smiled, trying to smooth Steve’s hair down to no avail. He gave up and pushed the hood off of Steve’s head instead as he pulled his own up further. The sleepy kiss was nice but not enough, would maybe never be enough. Not if Steve wanted to stick around like he’d said. 

He slid his hand over Steve’s cheek and held his face in place, his kiss more intentional than Steve’s had been. He stayed curled up, always made himself a little too small when he slept but it was fine. Steve was draped over him and it was even more comfortable than the probably one million thread count sheets he was currently laying on. 

***

In the back of his mind, Steve was worried that Billy would think his morning breath was gross or something, but he responded to the kiss anyway – mouthing against Billy’s lips as he pushed it farther than Steve’s simple morning peck. He was still three wires short of functional, but he lazily followed the pull and give of Billy’s mouth against his, and he liked this – liked waking up with Billy, liked how he filled the bed, even if he was curled up beneath Steve, the way he fit against Steve’s sheets and the way he drew him into the morning like it was a happy place to be because Billy was there. 

When he got his eyes opened a little more he started smiling against Billy’s kiss before he raised a hand to pet at the now dry, golden hair.Mirroring the way Billy’s hand splayed against his own cheek. It was his promised Shirley Temple hair and he loved it. It was so soft under Steve’s hand, frizzed up from sleep, and Steve wanted to bury his hand in it, so he did, tangling up his fingers and gently tugging Billy a little bit closer into the kiss. 

***

Billy knew why Steve was smiling the second he felt long fingers wind their way into his hair, making a tiny noise of irritability before he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up. It was embarrassing more than anything but Steve seemed pretty happy about it so he knew he’d let it slide. Especially when those fingers were pulling on his hair, as gentle as it was. 

“Want you,” he whispered into Steve’s mouth, a little slack jawed himself at just the barest tug against his hair. Steve Harrington never forgot a fucking hot spot, that was for sure. “Please, sweetheart?”

He wanted to keep hiding from that fucking storm cloud but it didn’t feel anything like yesterday, closing his eyes and launching himself off of something just to stop feeling. He wanted to remember that there were things like this for him too. That even without his mother there was at least one person around, someone who wanted a good grip on him, who wanted him to be happy. 

***

“’s cute.” Steve explained about the hair as Billy made a little growly noise about it, perking up a bit as he twisted his fingers a little tighter into that hair, got a better hold. Steve...loved having Billy here in the morning. He’d decided. Actually waking up to someone in the morning that wanted to be with him, that didn’t fly across the world to seemingly escape him, it was possibly the best way to wake up. He liked sleep mussed, but still beautiful Billy, stretched out next to him, whispering at him in that low, sleep scratchy voice like they might wake somebody else up. But it was just them. 

The next thing that came out of Billy’s mouth – didn’t exactly take Steve by surprise? But he wasn’t expecting it. He wasn’t exactly a morning person – not that he’d ever object to morning sex – but jesus he really needed to get woken up beforehand. Even if his dick was already stirring in interest just at the mention of Billy ‘wanting’ him. Went straight to his gut. 

“Mmh…mhm.” Steve nodded, biting at Billy’s lower lip, drawing it between his teeth before pulling farther away. “Wake me up a lil’?” That was beating his record for words before being awake for twenty minutes, but it was really in both of their best interests, he figured. 

***

Billy hummed back, following Steve’s lips with a small sound of disappointment when he pulled away. He smiled when he heard what Steve said next, absolutely no objection to helping. He peeled the covers back enough to move in a little closer, Steve’s body solid and warm with sleep against him. 

The prospect of waking Steve up had his hand wandering down, fingers hooking into the waistband of Steve’s sweats. He leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, maybe a little more desperate though he wouldn’t say it. It only lasted a few seconds before he was sighing, moving down under the blankets and rucking the sweatshirt up, enough skin on display for him to put his mouth on. 

“You wanna fuck my mouth a little, sweetheart?” he asked, still whispering, not even bothering to look up as he waited for a response. The smattering of freckles on Steve’s side was more interesting, the taste of Steve’s skin under his tongue, the hard bone of his hip as he tugged the sweatpants further down. 

***

Billy was all bulk above him, radiating heat like a furnace, with these gorgeous flouncing, fluffy golden curls. All fierce kisses and burning blue eyes. Then he was gone beneath the covers, and Steve let out a breathy sigh, catching his fingers in the sheets and creating furrows in the fabric. His back arched just enough – making it easier for Billy to slide the sweats down, toes curling in something like anticipation. 

He nodded at Billy’s suggestion, head bobbing on the pillow as his cock slipped free of the sweats – saying ‘baby,’ like a plea. Hands burrowing south to reach under the blankets in search of those alluring gilded locks. The sensation of Billy’s burning tongue on his skin, sweeping lower and lower at the V of muscle made his hips roll. Clearly enjoying the attention so close to something else that really wanted Billy’s mouth on it. 

His skin felt that much more sensitive with Billy’s tongue salving over it, nerve endings alight – tingling where Billy’s tongue drew lines of fire. Steve’s fingers flexed in the shorter curls atop Billy’s crown, non-verbally asking him, his belly growing tense. “Please.” 

***

Billy hummed, a small mhm that could’ve sounded patronizing if it weren’t for what his mouth was doing. He pulled Steve’s sweats down as far as they could go without him moving, teeth sinking into the top of Steve’s thigh. As penance he lifted his head just a bit, just enough to take Steve’s cock into his mouth with a soft sigh. His hands slid up the sheets until they were parallel with Steve’s ribs, fingers curling while he bobbed up and down. 

The rhythm was slow, painfully slow, and on purpose. He figured the way to get Steve up was to get him frustrated, clawing for him. He placed a hand over one that was on his head, pressing insistently until he hoped Steve got the idea. If he didn’t then him relaxing his throat would, the low hum he let out. 

***

Steve’s lungs expanded and contracted beneath the weight of Billy’s knuckles, as he huffed out a surprised sound at how wet and hot Billy’s mouth was like he’d FORGOTTEN – as if you could forget something like that. But jesus god he was going so SLOW, and Steve’s hips stuttered beneath the pull of that mouth, aching for more – faster, deeper, MORE. 

When Billy got one hand over Steve’s, pressing down, Steve knew what he wanted – knew what he liked – even if he low key worried about hurting him or something in some deep part of his brain he couldn’t ever quite shut off. But he got the message. He twined his fingers up in Billy’s hair like silk ribbons around his knuckles, and as Billy’s throat relaxed, loosening around his length, Steve rocked up, once, slowly – a shiver passing over his body as his head brushed the back of Billy’s throat, slick saliva running down. 

“Mmh,” Steve moaned, flexing his fingers in Billy’s hair, just enough, and pulled him back down – his hands were steadier than his hips were – his hands were careful, but his hips had a mind of their own and they jerked up once given the allowance. He rocked up and down, in and out of Billy’s mouth, hissing at the sensation. He was quickly all the way hard, lengthening with each draw of Billy’s lips over the shaft, until Steve was huffing with the feeling of it. He was definitely awake.

***

Billy felt Steve’s movements go from lax to tense, felt his cock get harder every second. The moan sealed it for him, had him committing it to memory—the fact that he made Steve Harrington make that kind of noise just from his mouth. It paled in comparison to whatever platitudes a closeted basketball player said back in Cali or the moans he was used to hearing above him. This felt tangible, real in a way that made his eyes close, nothing else to see. 

His hips were rolling into the mattress further down, distracting him every few seconds until he was gagging, forgetting to breathe at the right time. The feeling of spit sliding out of his mouth was dirty and perfect, Steve’s fingers holding onto his scalp, cock moving however Steve wanted it to. He whined his satisfaction out at the feeling, one hand sliding down the bed, his heel digging into his erection where it was trapped under a layer of soft cotton. 

***

Steve gasped for air as he felt the vibration of Billy’s whine around him, encapsulating him like seismic waves, and he bent like a comma up into Billy’s mouth, taking from him, fucking over that soft velvet tongue with something that was growing more frantic, insistent, before Steve’s hips abruptly dropped to the mattress – having to ease back out from that heat that felt like it was drawing something to the surface. He had to stop now or he’d come way too fast.

He was blinking sleep from his eyes, breath coming fast now as he sat up – leaning with intention – to search out Billy’s mouth with his own now, his cock now gleaming with spit, blushing and solid, wanting more. Steve led Billy with his hands still in his hair, tongue sliding out midair like he wanted to devour the boy whole – lick the taste of his own pre-come from his lips, and somehow wasn’t even weirded out about it, though maybe normally he might have been. But in this instance it was just interesting, and kind of hot because Billy’d just been sucking him down. 

“Okay, okay, – want you, too. Want you so much.” 

Steve glided his teeth along Billy’s lower lip, his tongue gradually coaxing Billy’s out. Propped up with Billy low in his lap, straddling him, shoulders hunched so that he could kiss him good, Steve’s arm snaked down between Billy’s belly and the sheets – searching for his dick. When he found it, still trapped by sweats and Billy’s own palm. Steve’s slightly bigger hand splayed over the back of Billy’s, fate line pressed to knuckles, urging that hand even tighter against himself, before he worked to start tugging down the elastic band. His other hand dropped to Billy’s cheek, splaying long, slender fingers over the stubble there, scraping like sandpaper against his fingertips. 

Simmering, molten brown eyes were half open, lashes tickling at Billy’s longer, darker ones, hooded and searching Billy’s bright baby blues. “Better than coffee.” Steve hummed, voice hoarse with desire, into Billy’s mouth, tongue licking back into Billy’s mouth after. 

***

Billy nodded dumbly, staring back at Steve before his thoughts were interrupted by the kiss. His mouth felt loose and pliant, jaw sore and chin still a little damp. It didn’t seem like Steve minded, quite the opposite and all Billy could think was too much clothing. He pulled back from the kiss with another whine and tried to be quick, getting himself out of the hoodie and letting it fall where his head had been on the pillow just a little while ago. 

“Want you now, c’mon, I need it,” he said, hands jittery and clumsy suddenly as he tried to make quick work of both of their sweats. 

It was stupid, he knew. He was pretty much a sure thing depending on who you asked, and it wasn’t like Steve wasn’t going to fuck him. But the idea of maybe sitting still too long, idling, kickstarting yesterday all over again was still on his mind. He tried to think about what Steve had said, heard himself say any time?, echoing Steve’s words from the day before, fingers halting on Steve’s waistband. 

***

Steve stripped out of his hoodie and tossed it back with Billy’s, before he turned to him with impatient hands. They searched over Billy’s chest, now exposed to the pleasant temperature of the room – not scorching like last time they’d done it here. Steve’s eyes dipped up to Billy as he brushed a thumb over one nipple standing at attention, his other gliding down Billy’s sternum, making a line to his navel, and then fanning out over his abs. 

He noticed how rushed Billy seemed – tugging at their clothes like they’d personally offended him, and his hands were maybe shaking a little – pausing at Steve’s waistband as Billy went still, giving Steve this big, unfathomable look. That slowed Steve down.Steve stared back at him, and then his face softened – he got his hand back on Billy’s cheek, splaying the other over that peach fuzz thigh. Wiggling himself up onto his knees, he leaned towards Billy, who still had a hand on his sweats. Cock hanging heavy between his legs.

He could see that Billy was in a rush, but – Steve didn’t want to rush this morning – he couldn’t exactly let Billy keep blowing him or he’d definitely come way too early, but that didn’t mean they needed to finish sooner rather than later. 

Steve leaned in and pressed a soft, closed mouthed kiss against Billy’s cheek, where soft skin met the edge of his perfect, carnation lips. The hand that was on Billy’s thigh traced invisible patterns across Billy’s skin, along the sweep of his hip bone, and then carefully wrapped around Billy’s cock – gave it one long, thought out stroke, his thumb gliding along the underside of the head, urging beads of pre-come out. 

“What’s the rush, baby?” Steve breathed against Billy’s mouth, batting his lashes like his hair didn’t look like he’d electrocuted himself sometime during the night. “We’ve got all day. No school, huh?” He smiled against Billy’s mouth as he pressed another soft kiss there and kept stroking that hard, smooth cock in his hand, reaching up once to lick his palm before returning it, working his wrist.  
Watching Billy expectantly from hooded eyes, before he dipped down to dot kisses along his jaw, to lick up the side of his neck. Then he sucked Billy’s dangling earring into his mouth, along with the lower half of Billy’s ear – lobe and all – metal clinking against his teeth in Billy’s ear, with the lap of his tongue. 

He wanted to take his time with Billy this morning – after yesterday, all he wanted was to be sweet with him. He wanted to break him apart in all of the best ways, and to take his time with it. He wanted to make it feel so good for Billy. 

***

Billy didn’t have much of an argument planned. There were half-formed indignant responses, whoever he was before he found himself in Steve’s bed used to bolting when things got too slow. After yesterday he found himself wanting it, as fucking terrifying as it was. And it was, enough to get his fingers jittery against Steve’s sweats though he didn’t stop. Just moved slower, what’s the rush. 

Steve’s tongue against his ear made him shudder, his cheek turning into the hand still splayed over his face, holding him up it seemed. The hand on his cock felt like that but tenfold, his thighs spreading out slow. His own hands moved from Steve’s sweats to his own, shifting to tug them off of his ankles but even that—slow. 

“Out of my element,” he said, his voice far off in his ears, the closest he’d get to saying this is terrifying, at least right then. 

***

Steve let go of Billy’s earring to let it dangle again, kissing down his throat again. Mouthing along sensitive skin, pausing to pull out a dark mark against his collar bone, this time opposite of where he’d left it last time. On Billy’s right side. But he kept his hands were they were – especially as Billy leaned into the one at his cheek, the other continuing to pull him off, with long, sweeping gestures. 

“’s okay,” Steve said, straightening his back so that he could nose against Billy’s cheek, his fingers curling more against the other, nails gliding over stubble. It may not be Billy’s element, but it was Steve’s. Steve wouldn’t have touched the words ‘making love’ with a ten foot pole – he hadn’t since Nance, he guessed. He’d stuck with the word ‘fucking.’ And he wasn’t gonna say it now. But something niggled in the back of his mind at the passing thought, like a reminder from last night, but he didn’t want to look at it too closely. He shut that drawer in his mind just a bit tighter, so he wouldn’t hear it rattle again. He couldn’t think about it right now. 

“Just wanna make you feel good. Can take our time,” Steve’s hand paused and came off of Billy’s cock, while he pulled back a little – wanting to make sure he was okay with it. “Is it okay?”

***

“It’s okay,” Billy said, nodding and trying not to school his face into anything. It was, as it turned out, a lot more difficult than it sounded. Every part of him had its hackles raised, heard wanna make you feel good and desperately wanted to rear up and take control. It would be easy to push Steve over and climb on top of him, sit on his dick and ride him until he couldn’t see straight. 

Only there was another part. Soft and small and usually stomped down or throttled into submission, something he worked hard not to surface. It was saying that it really was okay, that every year and any time actually meant something. That the look on Steve’s face was real, careful and eager. 

He nodded to cement his point and finally let his hands move, didn’t find them moving as erratically anymore. They set themselves on either side of Steve’s head, fingertips barely dipping into wild, dark hair. The rest of him tried to go pliant, had him letting out a long, quiet breath as he let that small thing come out. Just a little. 

***

Steve grinned as Billy nodded, humming with contentment as Billy’s fingertips grazed his hairline. When that thick, compact body started to loosen – to ease up, Steve’s more lithe one surging like a slow motion wave over him to get him on his back, splayed over the mattress, Steve’s fingers skimming up over lines of ribs and muscle definition, pressing a kiss into Billy’s sternum. 

He ran his fingertips over Billy’s golden skin, fading into a softer hue in the Indiana winter – once bronze, now becoming more of a dreamy, faded sunset color. Steve’s face was eager but relaxed, his body ready but easy, as he traced Billy’s lines like an artist might paint brush strokes, memorizing a canvas. Trying to ease tense muscles and draw desire to the surface like fizz in a shaken pop can. Trying to make him comfortable when he didn’t really look it.

He also grabbed the lube out of the bedside drawer, fingers quickly coated in it, enough that once his fingers had gotten down to Billy’s thighs – tickling along the sensitive inner curves, and gliding passed his straining cock, they pressed easily at his hole. His other arm was looped behind the small of Billy’s back, sandwiched into the mattress. 

“Jesus, you’re so pretty.” Steve said, admiring him with a sweeping glance and a sweet, crooked half smile. “Dunno how I got so lucky, y’know?”

He left a kiss like a caress on Billy’s right side at his natural waistline. Then he slid the first finger in, carefully, until he was knuckle deep, his lower lip parted from the top. 

***

Billy felt his face heat up when Steve started to talk, could feel it moving down his neck and knew there was no way of hiding it. The word pretty made him think of a lot of things, filthier than anything anyone had ever said to him during sex. He pictured himself piling into the Camaro, waiting to be in the dark under only the overhead light while he put on mascara he’d stolen. He pictured his fingers wrapping around a ringlet, working it around his head and hoping someone would look later. 

Steve was looking now, doing a lot more than looking. 

He swallowed hard and shivered at Steve’s touch, thighs spreading out further. His body finally took the fucking hint and relaxed a bit, sinking back into the arm underneath him like it was cradling him. 

***

As Billy relaxed beneath him, going lank against Steve’s forearm where it was braced, he tipped his head to the side – he didn’t have to move it far – to lick a long, hot stripe of wet up Billy’s cock, from base to tip, carefully working his finger in and out of Billy – going slow at first, getting him used to it, following the release and contract of muscles when it was too much or not enough, and he was pressing for it to be just right. 

When Billy’s thighs spread wider, like an invitation, Steve worked in the second finger, taking his time, going slow until he built some momentum, shallowly thrusting his hand. Once he got both fingers eased in at the same depth, he crooked them just a bit, like a ‘come hither’ motion, to press up into that spot Billy liked so well. Steve lapped the head of that weeping dick into his mouth at the same moment. 

Billy blinked rapidly, his back arching like a bow as that familiar heat shot up his spine. His fingers delved further into Steve’s hair but didn’t dig in like they might some other time, just a gentle curling and uncurling like he was trying to distract himself. The pressure of arousal in his gut was a slow build instead of the usual rapid fire feeling, little bursts that came and went but never completely away. Definitely not with Steve’s hands, his mouth, working the way they were. 

“There,” he said, like it even needed saying, but he figured Steve would appreciate it. What he knew without a doubt was that Steve liked this part if the look in his eyes was any indication. Like it made him feel smug to watch Billy start to writhe, thighs spread out wide like he was begging for it and not giving it to him. 

***

He did like that – when Billy started to writhe on the sheets, like he wanted it, wanted Steve – squirming for him when Steve touched him just right. He hollowed out his cheeks as he sucked Billy farther into his mouth. He didn’t think he was exactly great at doing this yet, but he figured he could be a fast learner, and he was pretty good at mimicking what Billy had done. 

Trying to loosen his throat, to swallow him a little more deeply, even if it brought tears to his eyes and he had to fight the urge to gag on him. He really understood the term ‘gagging for it’ now, and he really was. Steve got the third finger in to really stretch Billy, spreading him open. Steve hummed, like he’d liked when Billy did it with vibrations like fireworks, before popping nearly all the way up to lick at the slit. Dark bedroom eyes turned up at Billy, tears in his lashes, as his own cock pulsed with need for some kind of friction, pressure of any sort really. 

Jesus, he really did like it. Really liked seeing Billy all lit up with desire, his arousal heavy in Steve’s mouth, taste of pre-come on his tongue, feeling the way his muscles inside clenched and released around his fingers. Liked the way Billy confirmed it with even such as small word as ‘there’ when Steve managed to get him shaking. 

Steve slid his fingers out one by one, first the third, then the second, then the third, taking his time, until there was nothing left. He came off of Billy’s cock with his mouth with an obscenely wet sound, trying to catch his breath and blinking fast to clear his eyes. His skin was buzzing with desire, breath rapid, when he got his hands on Billy’s hip bones and pressed a kiss into his belly button before straightening up – sliding his lower body perfectly into the space between Billy’s spread thighs. 

***

Billy thought this might be what it felt like, to be sun-baked and parched and staring longingly at an oasis. The desperation he was feeling was impossible to ignore, eked out of him in a mournful sound when Steve’s fingers disappeared, then his mouth. It was so overwhelming it took him a few seconds to get what Steve was doing, to real feel him settling up between his legs. It was nowhere near enough. 

His hands slid up Steve’s back without any hair to card through, his grip not rough but still clawing, trying to appease him somehow with his body. He tried to get Steve closer, impossibly closer, but his hands felt lazy and uncoordinated, like wading through something thick. The whines were still coming but it was a softer thing, hardly able to hear them himself, docile and sweet in a way he was sure he’d never been. 

“Please? Please,” he cooed, cheeks heating up again at the sound of himself. The embarrassment was brief, arousal making him almost miserable with it, a leg bending, a knee pressing up against Steve’s ribs, anything. 

***

Steve missed the feel of Billy’s hands in his hair, but it was almost as good with the scrape of blunt nails over the jut of his shoulder blades - they strained behind him as he got a good grip on Billy’s hips, enough to pull them close to flush. Then he released one hip to guide himself to the right place.

And Billy, Billy was pulling him down like a weight in the sea, trying to get them closer, closer, the sounds coming out of his mouth making Steve feel shivery and a little crazy with it. Dizzy with desire. Just wanted to draw more sounds out of him, long, drawn out, broken sounds, pleasured ones, just for him – that told him he was doing something right. These whines were more like asking for something, pleading wordlessly, almost animalistic in a way. He’d never even heard Billy like that, in that tone, that voice. 

“Anything, god I…anything.” Steve growled back, panting, getting one hand under Billy’s ass to lift him off the mattress enough to line himself up. Caged in on either side by Billy’s knees knocking into his ribs, supported by one of Steve’s hands on his ass. 

Where Billy was trying to claw him close, Steve was near enough to briefly press a kiss into the hollow of his throat. It was in the same breath as he broke past the rim with a relieved sigh - trembling with it. He let out a short, breathy moan that wavered like a windchime in a sudden gust. He had to mentally stop himself from rutting forward, really. 

***

Billy’s head fell back against the bed, a sound of stark fucking relief leaving his mouth. His hands went from clawing to petting, fingers roaming over Steve’s shoulder blades before hanging on for purchase. The sound he pulled out of Steve made him shiver in kind, that little thing blooming and blooming until his chest felt too tight. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, nothing else on the tip of his tongue. Nothing at all, just more soft sounds he’d never made before. 

Everything was slow and perfect for a moment, every tiny detail floating by him. His ankles almost crossed at the middle of Steve’s back, his entire body pulling him in. The way the room looked soft at the edges, the slow drag of Steve’s cock inside of him, that familiar ache he liked so much. He pushed his neck out or tried to, his muscles not working, trying to get another little kiss, maybe something more. 

***

Steve instantly responded to the way Billy’s neck stretched out to him, searching. It was a good thing Steve was just a little taller, because it gave him that extra last inch to straighten his spine. Brushing a kiss to Billy’s lips just as he bottomed out. His eyes rolled back a little with the sensation. “Billy, baby – Billy,” Steve breathed against his mouth, sharing air for a fleeting second before he had to lean back enough to drag slowly in reverse – almost pulling out – before he rocked back in, slowly building up a steady, thrusting rhythm, wet with the sounds of their skin and the slick of lube, tiny shattered groans spilling out of his chest like crystal shards. “Fu-....so good, you’re so good, I - mmh...” 

His hands were searching, grabbing for Billy, for handholds on his body, one hand kneading into the meat of his ass, using it to rock Billy back against Steve’s dick. The other hand reached up enough to splay against Billy’s cheek, thumb brushing over his lower lip, plump and pink from kisses. 

The room was dreamy with morning light, all slanted, muted lines through the blinds, the blankets and sheets twisted in a sea around them, as they created this symphony of impassioned cries, Billy keening under him, and it filled Steve to the brim with yearning. Billy was an aphrodisiac that he was high on, and it was a high he never wanted to lose. Steve took it slow, painstakingly, lovingly slow, agonizing in how sweet and slow and careful it was even as he pressed in deeper, harder. Lifting Billy’s hip just enough, heels digging into his back, so that he could get a better angle. 

***

Billy could hear every breath he was taking, every single one. Each inhale was a soft gasp, almost surprised by itself, by the way Steve’s fingers dug into his ass or the way he was looking down at him. Like something worth touching like that. Every exhale shook with him, eyes wide open even if he wanted to close them. 

He tried to say something, some half formed question. Maybe what or why or how. It got lost when his lips parted, Steve’s thumb gliding across his teeth, his whole mouth loose like the rest of him. 

This was like being drunk but it didn’t cost a dime, it costed something a whole lot bigger and a whole lot more valuable. That thought washed away with just the right roll of Steve’s hips, eyes still open but not seeing much at all. He could still hear though, the sounds of their bodies moving together and the way Steve said baby good enough for him. 

***

Steve had the best view of Billy from up here, gazing down at him as he kept his hips thrusting into him – he was enraptured by the look on that gorgeous face, all screwed up with pleasure - pink mouth slack, exquisitely long lashes fluttering, those blue eyes flashing blind. Steve’s breath was growing ragged, edging towards desperate as he couldn’t keep the slower pace anymore – there was a pressure building in his gut seeing Billy like that, those delicious sounds in his ears, egging him on. 

It was a tightness at the base of his spine, a flurry of sensation over his skin like butterfly wings, and his tempo picked up – grew a little more heated, chasing something now. A still-slick hand encircling Billy’s length, working over the velvet hard skin, rigorously sliding along with a well-practiced motion. 

The back of his neck was already damp with beads of perspiration, along with the dip of his chest, the curve of his brow. He had to toss his head back to get some of the floppy brown locks out of his eyes, gasping. Those pleasure dark eyes finally had to flicker closed as he started to let out wild, breathy, choppy sounds when each thrust landed it’s mark, pulling Billy off with each movement – perfectly in rhythm before he started to stutter. 

***

“I-I-I’m—“

The words still wouldn’t come, lips brushing Steve’s thumb until Billy took it into his mouth, whined around it. The hand that had held onto his body so tightly was gone and his body wanted to take up the slack, clung harder until his hands were shaking for entirely different reasons. He rolled his hips into each of Steve’s thrusts, moaning so high, so loud it made his throat hurt, made his eyes roll back. 

That lightning strike of arousal streaked up his spine and ripped his orgasm right out of him, made him realize exactly what he’d been trying to say. His stomach jumped at the sudden feeling of his come hitting his abdomen, nails digging into Steve’s shoulders, making angry, loving lines across freckled skin as he moved. 

Everything in him wanted to collapse, this sort of sex more exhausting than any rushed and violent encounter he’d ever had. It took something completely different out of him, left him gasping, still trying to cling on, meet Steve’s thrusts in time, pick up where Steve faltered. 

***

Steve rolled his hips in waves to help punch Billy’s orgasm out of him, working him through it, trying to hold on enough that he could do just that – watching his boy arch like a cat beneath him, relishing in the fingers scrabbling at his back, creating desperate lines in Steve’s pale skin. Just Billy’s stutters, those sounds, those fucking sounds, were enough to drive Steve over, feeling Billy quake beneath him like a fault line. 

Steve tumbled down after him, let himself go once he felt Billy start to go loose – hand freezing in it’s ministrations on his spent cock, sticky with come as Steve’s limbs locked up. His eyes flinched closed, aching with sudden electricity that made him seize up, breath coming like he was in a marathon, all short gasping breath with a whimper tallying them up. He shivered from the top of his cloud of brown hair to his clenched toes, pushing his hips forward and keeping them there, flinching and twitching as Billy’s pelvis continued to weakly press back against him – keeping the motion going enough for friction through his orgasm. He knew he was babbling something nonsensical, something about ‘billy’ and ‘baby’ and soft, half formed curses and moans.

The hand at Billy’s cheek tensed, his thumb pressing down flat against that hottongue where he’d drawn it into his mouth, all wet heat and teeth, and Steve shivered as everything went blinding. It was over as soon as it came, leaving Billy’s ass full as Steve finally went loose. 

He slowly slumped down over Billy, gasping for air. Steve face tucked into the juncture of his right shoulder, trembling and sweaty, sliding his spit-slick thumb over Billy’s cheek to brace his hand along the straining tendons of a thick neck. 

He was blindly pressing kisses into the ridge of that collar bone, softened cock still inside Billy, delirious with his post-orgasm high. He didn’t even really have words, so he didn’t try. He let out this soft, breathless laugh against Billy’s throat, overwhelmed and giddy with perfection. 

***

Billy sighed heavily, shaking hands moving up to cradle Steve by the back of his head and neck, holding him there with a weak grip. He heard Steve’s laugh and smiled but couldn’t return it, too exhausted and more than grateful that he wouldn’t have to face the world outside of this house, this bed just yet. He settled for holding Steve close, trying to savor the feeling, thighs spread wide and boneless on either side of him. 

He shifted underneath Steve to get more comfortable, just enough to try and curl around him. He could feel Steve still inside of him, the telltale wetness that meant come spreading onto the very inside of his thigh. A small, unmistakably sexual sound left him then, quiet but enough to make him shiver. No way was he going to be able to go again but it was still arousing in some far off, filthy way, nice to feel and not do anything about. 

“Like my hair like this that much?” he asked, empty of the sarcasm he was going for, hollowed out by his orgasm, by whatever the fuck that just was. 

***

Steve was in that floaty space where he felt wrung out just right, a little shaky and exhausted, all at the same time. But mostly he just felt good – warm, with this sugar packed in his chest that oozed like sweet jelly up his throat, almost choking him, almost cloying, but not quite. It was just enough. He hummed lazily against Billy’s throat at the comment about his hair, smiling into his skin. 

“Oh yeah. It really does it for me.” Steve said, laughing a little again, but it was a weak thing, little more than breath and air as he brushed his nose against Billy’s pulse point. Enjoying the hands on the back of his head, cradling him there – he liked how safe Billy’s hands made him feel. He brushed some of the curls along the other side of his neck just to prove his point, rustling like silk beneath his fingertips. 

“Told you Faberge was amazing, huh?” He paused for a moment, started again. “I really – “ He stopped again. Lulled into silence. He didn’t want to start in on the mushy shit – he had the feeling it might spook Billy away. So he swallowed the saccharine goo that was choking him and let it sink into his belly, unused. 

***

“Good though?” Billy said, the silence they’d fallen into not uncomfortable, though he shuddered to think of what Steve had stopped himself from saying. I really think you should go popped into his head but it warred heavily with everything that had come before it. Didn’t stop it from burrowing in, making a home there. 

Was I good? Even though I’m fucked up? Even after yesterday?

That was what he’d really been asking, didn’t have the guts to say it. The first question wasn’t one he’d ever asked anyone before because yeah, he was good. Just maybe not in the way he wanted to be. Maybe more than just one time, or a handful of times in this case. Some signifier that this was what Steve meant by slow, by not rushing, like he was learning something for the first time. 

***

“Good?” Steve said with a little huffy laugh, smiling, crinkles forming at the edges of his eyes as he scooted back (also sliding out of Billy, which made him wince) – enough that he could prop his chin up on Billy’s collarbone, trying to get a better look at him, big brown eyes staring over Billy’s chin. 

“Way…way more than good, it was..you’re…” Steve rubbed his lips together, licked them a little like they were dry. “I thought it was… great.” Steve trailed off slightly at the end, flushing pink at how dumb he might sound. 

“You’re…I mean, I really. I really – like. You. A lot.” Steve’s long, slender body remained relaxed, still spread out over Billy’s more compact frame. Tucking one hand beneath his chin still on Billy’s chest so that he wasn’t jabbing him. “Was it alright, y’know, going…slower? Like that?” 

***

Billy would definitely, definitely blame it on being so fucked out. Could blame it on how parts of him were relaxed and loose that he hadn’t even thought were tense, his body spread out like fucking water. It was why his mouth shot off, a direct line from his brain to it like he had no thoughts in it at all. 

“What? Why?” he asked, genuine confusion on his face before he shook his head, thought of a dog shaking water off of itself. Wasn’t like he could rewind, take that soft part of him back in, not all the way but at least he could try. “I mean, yeah, it was. Better. Than alright, I mean.”

***

“I dunno, no reason. Just wasn’t sure at first, if you wanted me to, that’s all.” Steve smiled a little at Billy’s confusion – jesus, he was cute as hell, huh? With his lips still curved up at the corners, Steve’s eyes drifted closed, long lashes forming dark crescents over his cheeks. His fingers were mindlessly drawing little circles into the side of Billy’s neck, just below his earlobe, the other beneath his chin as he took a long, deep breath, letting it out a rush of relaxation. 

“Mmh I’d like to wake up like this every day.” He admitted without really thinking about it – even if that was a total pipe dream fantasy, it just kind of popped out of his mouth. It wasn’t just to wake up to great freakin’ sex every morning, it was to wake up like this every day with you. 

***

Billy was pretty sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking, not just some idealism spilling out in the wake of what they’d just done. It felt like, it sounded like something a little heavier than just a nice fuck when you woke up. Something settled in Billy then, moving the insecurity to the back burner, at least for a moment. 

“Like you too,” he said, a delayed response but hopefully saying what he was trying to. I’d like to wake up like this too, I’d like to wake up away from my home, be here instead. He let out a sigh similar to Steve’s, neck stretching under the little scratches Steve was giving him, like a cat finding a nice and sunny spot to spread out. “Thank you. For yesterday—for today, too.”

***

Steve’s eyes cracked open just enough to study Billy through his lashes, eyes dark and thoughtful, still a little blissed out but focusing more. He continued to draw into Billy’s skin, finding patterns there with idle swirls of his fingertips. 

“You’re welcome. Anytime, remember?” Steve smiled and pressed a slow kiss to Billy’s chest, his crazy hair probably getting into the guy’s face. 

“How’re you feeling? Today?” Steve wasn’t sure if Billy wanted to talk about it, but also wanted him to know that he could if he wanted, and Steve would listen. Yesterday had been a lot. “I could also grab us some breakfast. Poptarts? Or we could go to the diner.” 

***

“I’m—I’ll be fine. I think getting out would be good,” Billy said, looking down at the bird’s nest in his face. He tried to smooth it off of Steve’s forehead and it worked a little, made it easier to look at him. “Need a shower first.”

He would be fine, or something close to it, he knew that. He wasn’t right now and it felt like it was okay to kind of sort of admit. The sex was beyond good, left him more settled than he could ever remember, but the storm cloud was still there. His mother was in the forefront of his mind again, her wild hair, wild like Steve’s. 

“This earring’s hers, you know.”

***

Steve shifted and sat back, knees tucked beneath languid spread thighs, while he used the sheets to wipe off the flat plane of Billy’s stomach. 

“Yeah, okay. Why don’t you take a shower and get ready, you know where the stuff is? I’ve gotta make some calls because I totally blew off picking the kids up and I’m probably in some deep shit. Gotta let the parents know to pick them up later.” 

He smiled down at Billy, stretching his arms over his head, heard his spine pop. He glanced at the long, dangle spike earring, caught up in fluffy locks, the one he’d recently sucked into his mouth. Whoops. 

“Was she secretly a rock star and you’re not telling me?” 

Steve tried to keep his tone easy, light. Wanting to let Billy know that it could be easy to talk about her, that if she was on his mind, they could talk about her without it having to be a big deal - no need to shove it down or forget it or need to drink away the memory. 

***

“Well, she was buddies with Jefferson Airplane and all those other Bay Area psychedelic bands in the sixties,” Billy said, melting into the bed even further if it was possible, stomach muscles jumping at Steve’s touch. “I was born in the Summer of Love and shit. You can really tell by my sunny disposition.”

A shower was sorely needed but he couldn’t get himself to move, nice and spread out over the tops of Steve’s thigh, Steve’s hand moving languidly over his stomach. He had half a mind to reach up and pull him down again because Steve Harrington in the morning was a fucking vision. A tall and unbelievably tender man hovering above him, one that hadn’t fucked his brains out but completely torn him inside out until he felt soft and tender with it. 

***

“I think my parents mentally skipped the sixties and I dunno, invested something.” Steve rolled his eyes and grinned down at Billy, sliding both palms over his stomach appreciatively, fingers spread out. “She should have named you Sunshine – I can definitely tell.” He nodded knowingly. 

He liked looking at Billy – liked being around him, talking to him, watching the way his eyes flashed, and his strong, firm body liquified like water beneath Steve’s touch.

This golden boy looked hazy around the edges like a half remembered dream, and everything seemed indistinct and perfect. Everything in that moment was perfect – Steve didn’t know that he’d ever had that, even after some toe curling sex like that. That kind that made him feel too big for his skin and too soft for reality. Nancy’d never once stayed over the night – she’d always left when Steve was asleep. 

He’d never actually woken up next to her – or anyone maybe? Prior to Nance, it was mostly just one night stands, with girls that Nancy had called ‘sluts,’ basically. That was sort of what he’d initially thought Nancy was gonna be - one night. But she’d changed all that. And she’d changed him in the meantime. There had been a couple girls he’d ‘dated’ when he was younger, but, that was glorified hand holding in the hallways, kissing cheeks on the playground. Shit like that. Not this. Steve didn’t know what to make of this – but he wanted more of it. With Billy. 

***

Instead of pulling Steve down, Billy reached up to sit, thighs spread over the top of Steve’s. He slid one hand up Steve’s back and scratched a lot softer than he had a few minutes before. The other splayed over the center of Steve’s chest, eyes following the path of his hand until he was looking at Steve. 

“Hi,” he said quietly, suddenly aware of the rasp in his voice, throat a little sore from moaning like a fucking cat in heat. The very recent memory made him shiver, leaning forward and nosing into Steve’s collarbone. “Okay, shower.”

***

A very faint shiver passed over Steve’s skin, raising gooseflesh along his chest and upper arms as gentle, blunt nails scraped along his back. 

“Hey.” Steve replied in a soft voice, leaning his chin back enough to give more space to Billy’s presence, engrossed in the way hot breath painted the line of his collar bone. Steve swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as his head tipped back, creating a stark, sensual profile out of his throat. He felt boneless, letting out a soft, needy breath at the sensation of Billy’s nose. He felt more sensitive all over his entire body, like someone had turned the dial up on his nerves.

With Billy close like this, (smelling fucking amazing like Steve’s French soap and sex,) both of Steve’s arms twined around his broad shoulders. They tangled up behind his neck as Steve relished the heat he possessed directly between Billy’s thighs – thick, warm, and comforting on either side of him. Steve’s own legs looped around Billy’s ass, ankles crossing somewhere behind his tailbone on the mattress. His eyes slid closed.

“Five more minutes?”

***

Billy nodded against Steve’s chest, lips roaming over the bottom of his neck, his own eyes closed. He hitched them a little closer until it seemed like every part of their bodies was touching and even then it didn’t feel like enough. He’d always been pretty insatiable, had heard enough rumors about Steve to figure he wasn’t much different, but needing to be this close to someone after the kind of sex they’d had was...new. Brand new. 

“Five more minutes,” he echoed against Steve’s skin, back curved to make himself a little smaller, fingers curling against Steve’s neck and back. He sighed and added a hint of teeth at the base of Steve’s neck, tongue giving kitten licks in apology. “Feels nice.”

***

The after part of Sex was maybe one of Steve’s favorite – the closeness, the gentle connection between the two of them, as if they were both fragile, boneless with aftershocks. But he guessed he’d never really imagined Billy as being that way after sex, so he was pretty delighted about it actually. 

It made him feel like he could be more vulnerable, he guessed, when Billy was. 

Steve’s goosebumps became more pronounced as Billy started to mouth along his skin, hands tightening against each other behind the bend of his neck. Half hanging onto him. A pink tongue darted out to wet pale lips, before they pursed together, making a low hum. It buzzed down his throat when Billy added that graze of teeth, softened by the tip of his tongue. 

“Like your mouth on me,” He said more to the ceiling than anything, safe behind the darkness of his eyelids, sounding a little breathless again. It felt like he’d just caught it only moments ago. 

***

“Mhm,” Billy said lightly, eyes flicking up toward Steve’s face, what little he could see of it. He snuck the hand on Steve’s chest behind his neck, pulling one of Steve’s off and leading it down, down to cup his ass. “What else you like, sweetheart?”

He could feel more than hear the way Steve’s breath was picking up, that little self esteem boost enough to get him smiling. He wasn’t thinking about anything now, nothing except for the body up against his, the teasing roll of his hips down into what he hoped would be Steve, hard all over again and soon. Steve’s neck was still a nice place to hide himself, both hands on his back as he moved, too fond to be embarrassed about how quick he got desperate again. Thought maybe it was mutual. 

***

Steve was already definitely getting hard – he was a little abashed, maybe a little embarrassed, almost, at how quickly he was ready to go again, but with Billy purring in that wrecked voice at him and directing Steve’s hand to his ass – hot tongue like a brand against his skin – it was pretty hard not to. 

He had to bring his face forward because the angle was too much – knocking his forehead against Billy’s as the other boy rolled his hips towards Steve’s. He let out a huff of surprised breath, back briefly tensing when he felt a slowly stiffening cock brush his own. It made a jolt go up his spine like pure electricity. Steve’s fingers tightened their hold on Billy’s ass where they’d been directed, pulling at him to come closer, trying to get their cocks back in contact – like fucking lightning rods brushing metal to metal. His other hand formed a fist at the base of Billy’s neck, trimmed down nails brushing into washed out bronze skin, urging him on. 

“God, like everything about you, baby.” Steve’s head twisted to the side where Billy had dipped back against his neck – pressing temple to temple and rubbing his head there, like how an animal might leave it’s scent on a mate. His voice was already lower, huskier, like it had been earlier. Maybe a little desperate. Maybe a lot desperate. 

***

Billy preened at Steve’s words, sighing high and sweet at the—Jesus, Steve was nuzzling and it made him sound like that. Even when their cocks slid together it didn’t feel like enough, not quite as filthy as he wanted it, still raw nerved from only moments ago. He shifted onto his knees in Steve’s lap, thighs still spread wide but his body lifted off of Steve’s, no contact for the barest moment. 

“Can I have it, sweetheart? Right now?” he said, hand moving up to rest featherlight on Steve’s jaw, making sure he could bat his eyelashes down at him. His free hand reached back after he slid his tongue over his palm, stroking Steve slowly just once, twice. “Still all wet for you, ready for it.”

***

Steve’s skull felt heavy on his neck when he eased it back to stare up at Billy, his fingers wanting to follow him – hungry for the contact, missing it. They fluttered onto Billy’s thighs, running up and down the golden baby hairs there, catching his thumbs at the dents of his hip bones. Billy was straddling him, up on his knees, and the second he licked his palm, Steve’s dick twitched at the flash of that hot, red tongue. His eyelashes fluttered when that hand wrapped around him, hips stuttering up off of the mattress. 

He dropped one arm back behind him so that he could brace himself on it. But it was chump change compared to what he’d had only minutes before – wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough – Steve swallowed audibly, felt like there was too much saliva in his mouth when he nodded stupidly. 

“Yeah, yes,” and Jesus, it was so hot, those words coming out of Billy’s mouth – can I have it? – still all wet for you – ready for it –

“Please, yes. I’m all yours, baby – you don’t even have to ask.” 

***

Billy nodded, still wide eyed and almost innocent but for the way his hand was moving behind him. He reached back with his other hand and found Steve’s, moved it in closer, made Steve’s fingers help spread his ass apart. It took nothing to hold Steve’s cock in place and lower himself down, a sound between soreness and relief leaving his mouth. 

“Mine?” he asked through a breath, his hand leaving Steve’s cock to wind around Steve’s shoulders, hanging on across his back. It felt fucking perfect, the thought of Steve’s come still inside him making his eyes roll back. “Mine.”

***

“Yours,” Steve agreed, as the breath felt like it was sucked out of him when Billy lowered himself over his cock. It was easy, almost as easy as it had been when Steve had last thrust into him – took literally no time to bottom out again, a moan punched out of him from the pleasure that crashed down. The hand that had been helping open Billy up again braced against his lower back between the dimples there – his other hand gripping Billy’s left ass cheek, digging into the meat of it as he let out a shuddering moan. Trying to press upwards, but from his position, it wasn’t ideal. Steve could still feel the distinct slick of his own come inside of Billy, smoothing the way, and it made something primal deep inside of him crazy with it.

“Fuck, I’m all yours,” Steve was gasping, using his hand on Billy’s ass to try and pull him even more over his cock, urging him to move. “Like you’re mine,” Steve was pressing mindless kisses against Billy’s chest as he rocked upwards into that perfect, tight-hot-amazing ass - or at least tried to, but he was limited like this. 

***

Billy couldn’t compare it to anything but slipping on something well worn and comfortable, like silk sliding over his skin. If he’d been out of his element before he sure was fuck was in it now, a space where he could be nasty and saccharine sweet in the same breath, where he could try and coax something mean or desperate out of the man underneath him. This time the world was lit up, daylight everywhere, and the bed and the person underneath him was soft, like some kind of dream. 

He tilted his head back until he felt a few curls brush his shoulders, a practiced move that he knew worked. Both hands moved to Steve’s chest, fingers curling against his collarbones as he finally started to move, really move. It ached and made his spine straighten, his mouth dropping open at the angle, how hard it was to bounce as much as he wanted, their bodies sliding together almost too close. 

***

Steve felt like his spine was going to shatter inside of him, the intense pressure of pleasure making it arch. The hand that had splayed behind Billy’s back had to drop away to brace behind Steve again, because they both needed some serious grounding with the way Billy was riding him or else Steve was seriously going to fall over. His head felt disconnected from his neck, rocking back as he fought for breath, panting in unison with the fierce pace Billy was setting – bouncing on him like it was his fucking job. 

Billy’s hands at his collarbone felt more like they were handlebars and Steve was the bike and like seriously he was really, really good with that. Steve’s heels were dug into the sheets as he worked to get his ass off of the mattress as much as he could to meet Billy’s punishing rhythm, their bodies slipping and sliding together, still sweaty from earlier. All skin and sound, with Steve making these little, desperate ‘unh’’s practically every other time Billy lowered himself all the way down - which sounded perfectly filthy, and grew more desperate each time. 

***

“You gonna come in me again, honey? Wanna watch it drip down my legs?” Billy asked, voice low and raspy and sweet, the way he got everything from fucking anyone. Right now he wanted it from Steve, wanted to piggyback on that desperate arousal, how quick he turned Steve on. “I look pretty, Steve?”

He looked down again to ask the question, running his nose over Steve’s and pulling back to look down. His pace never wavered, not even when his thighs started to burn or the ache started working its way up his back. If it was making Steve look like that, sound like that, like somebody in front of a fucking holy monument—it didn’t matter. 

***

Steve knew a line when he heard one – and hell, he’d used plenty of them. But honestly, he wasn’t exactly sure what had triggered it with Billy, because…well, Steve couldn’t exactly put his finger on it? But they didn’t – fall right. Land right. Like something was off about it. When his nose brushed against Steve’s, that felt closer to real – but it was kind of a toss up, because, maybe Billy didn’t want it to feel real? Maybe Steve’d gone a little too far with his mushy shit again. 

Maybe this was a hint? Did he want Steve to talk dirty to him, or what? Or maybe it wasn’t – looking up at Billy from hooded eyes, he didn’t think so. It looked a little bit like Billy was freaking out. Not a lot, just, a little. Enough. 

Steve reached a hand up to wrap his hand up in those curls and tug Billy’s face back down close again, even as the guy didn’t break pace, and he pressed a kiss to soft lips – mouth closed, breathing hard through his nose. 

“Hey – “ he gasped, sharing air. “Only if you want me to, - Billy. You - y’ know you’re always pretty. Want you to feel - good – huh? Just - want you.” 

He smiled and pressed another brief, closed mouth, shifting kiss against Billy’s mouth, using his free arm that wasn’t underneath him to wrap as tightly around Billy as he could, like this half hug, keeping them close as they fucked. 

***

Billy felt like he was short circuiting and only hoped it didn’t show on his face. He honestly hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it, trying to depersonalize everything. All the affection, whatever the fuck Steve had done to him that morning, it scared the shit out of him even if he’d never say so. This was scary too, the way Steve was talking to him like he was trying to pull him out of it, make himself clearer in Billy’s vision. 

The second Steve’s arm wound around him and held on it felt like maybe it was okay. That he could keep moving, let out sounds that were real, high and sweet and desperate and not forced in any way. He could be wrapped up in trying to get Steve to come and not think of slinking out after, could nod and whine uh huh, keep their faces close together. 

***

Steve used the arm around Billy’s waistline to help ease him to a stop, slowing him until they’d come to a stop – Steve was still inside Billy, letting him rest there, foreheads braced together – trying to catch his breath again. Eyes closed. 

He needed to stop – he wasn’t sure what, but something was wrong, and he wasn’t sure if it was him, or if it was something else, or maybe it was just too much after yesterday with Billy’s mom – but things were off, this time. And he didn’t want Billy to feel like Steve was going to somehow expect, or even want him, to continue if he wasn’t feeling right, even if Steve knew he would say as much in a million years. But he could hear it in his voice, and see it in the lines of his face, and the way his body had gone too tense around Steve.

He almost seemed - Steve wasn’t sure. Dizzy? Disconnected? Not all the way here. Almost like he was being forced. And Steve never wanted to feel like he was somehow forcing anyone. It was definitely something he’d need to give further thought when having sex with Billy. 

“I’ve gotta - we can stop, okay? I don’t...if you need to stop, we can stop.” Steve shook his head a little, blinking, trying to clear his head. “We should stop. Yeah?” 

Something about a few things Billy’d mentioned were tickling at his mind, like some kind of toxic feather duster stirring up old dust. About - other guys. About older guys. About parties. A club? A basketball team. And then something a lot hazier, something from when he’d been wasted, with his belt undone, and Billy’d gotten him in his car. Told him he’d wished somebody’d done that for him a few times. Steve’d said - said if that had happened to him, Steve would’ve saved him. He’d kind of remembered before, but he hadn’t thought about it that carefully. Perhaps not as carefully as he should have. It’d felt like a dream - unreal.

Steve blinked again. He carefully eased Billy up enough that Steve could slide out of him, still painfully hard. “Something’s wrong…right? I should’ve - I should’ve waited. ‘M sorry. ” 

***

Billy’s shoulders drew up, something spiky tearing up inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, just knew things weren’t going the way they usually did. He didn’t know what to say either. All he could do was lean back, spare some wishful thinking for some clothing and look at Steve full of confusion. Maybe hurt. Maybe. 

“I’m—fine, I’m fine,” he said quickly, almost petulantly, some childish defensiveness in his voice. “I can go, if it’s—if I fucked up, but I’m fine.”

***

Steve hadn’t meant to hurt him, or confuse him – he’d suspected that both were possibilities, even likely, but he didn’t want Billy to feel like he had to keep doing something with Steve even when he didn’t seem to be feeling right. Even if he said the word ‘fine.’ 

Steve sighed and leaned back rubbing a hand over his face, shaking his head before straightening his back a little, shaking his head.

“No no – no, it’s not that. It’s not that, okay? You didn’t fuck up, and I really, really don’t want you to go. I just think – uh I don’t know. It seemed like – er. Maybe you were somewhere else for a second.” Steve shifted, he didn’t know how to explain. Maybe he was crazy. “I – don’t know. Somewhere bad? You seemed – “ Scared. Panicked? Just for a second. “And if you don’t feel up to doing this right, now, I totally get it, you know? You’re going through a lot of shit right now, and it wasn’t fair of me, I – I should have thought about it. I think, maybe you should just, take a shower? And relax? And I’ll make those calls.”

Definitely after he jacked off in the guest bathroom downstairs because his boner was not fucking going away, dammit. Sometimes if he let it go too far, like halfway to coming, it just stuck around like a reminder that he needed to get off. It would take him way too long to get it to go away otherwise, and jacking off would be faster. 

***

Billy tried to decipher Steve’s words, more confused by them than he would’ve liked to be. But Steve didn’t want him to leave, really, really didn’t so he’d have to just try and believe him. In the end he settled for just nodding and slinking off to the bathroom, almost—just for a second—thinking of putting his clothes on and quietly leaving anyway. Whatever waited for him at home wasn’t worth doing that, even if Neil wasn’t around until Sunday night. 

When he stepped under the spray, this time alone, he thought maybe he understood what Steve meant by somewhere bad. He slid to the floor after a few seconds and thought about things he’d—honestly, he’d never thought of before. Memories of his mother’s funeral and someone explaining to him why it was closed casket, that the car accident left her not looking like herself. Billy hadn’t thought about it too hard until now, what that meant, what she must’ve looked like. 

He opened his eyes after realizing they’d been closed, not sure how long he’d been sitting like that. The spray of the shower made it difficult to tell if he was crying but the way his face ached made things a little clearer. The hot water had at least loosened him up, all of his skin bright pink and more relaxed than when he’d gotten in. He gave himself a few more minutes before forcing himself to exit, staring at himself in the mirror. 

Hopefully his hair wouldn’t turn out like it had after sleeping on it, but he couldn’t account for everything else. His thighs and ass were sore but it was kind of pleasant, even the angry purple mark Steve had left on his neck like some sweet little reminder. Only time would really make it less obvious he’d been crying so he changed into his clothes from the day before and stared at himself too long, poked his head out to see if Steve was still busy on the phone. 

***

Steve had finished up the calls a while ago – he’d also gotten dressed and made the bed up neatly with new sheets, and thrown the dirty ones in the laundry. He was currently sprawled out on said bed with his tape deck next to it, listening to The Smiths and sort of drowsing, even though there was an empty coffee mug by the bed. Or at least, his eyes were closed, but he was humming along.

He’d gotten dressed in a nice gray sweater with some light wash blue jeans that were pretty high waisted. He’d skipped the breakfast idea since it sounded like Billy’d wanted to go out, and the diner definitely sounded promising, especially since school was in session and they’d practically have the place to themselves. One leg was hanging off the edge of the bed, swinging barefoot, as he held his Realistic brand walkie talkie from Radio shack idly in his hand, like it wasn’t in use - but it maybe had been recently.

It crackled to life. 

“STEVE. COME IN. OVER.” 

Steve swung it back up to his mouth, disgruntled.

“Man I told you, I’m done – I’m not doing this right now – oh hey I gotta go,” Steve said into the receiver, eyes flicking open as he glanced at the open bathroom door. 

“STEVE I’m not done – and don’t forget to say over, over.“

“Over and out. Bye.” Steve turned the dial off. 

***

Billy looked around the room for his boots as he got closer to Steve’s bed, lips quirking up at the sound of Steve’s irritation. His boots were nowhere in sight and he didn’t remember taking them off but it wasn’t like Steve would’ve just let him get in the Beemer with just socks on, couldn’t have been that drunk. 

He flopped down next to Steve on the bed and knocked their knees together a few times, leg jiggling restlessly. He’d recognized the Henderson kid’s voice, always so fucking dramatic in a way that made Billy think of Max. Everything was a tragedy when you were thirteen—hell, everything still was. 

“You in deep shit?” he asked finally, head moving to the side to look at Steve, little smile still present. 

***

“Yeeeah, I probably shoulda called ‘em last night, or set the alarm but I just…forgot.” Steve wrinkled his nose a little at the ceiling. It wasn’t like him to forget. 

He tilted his head a bit to the side where Billy sprawled along beside him. He mirrored the smile – happy to see him looking a lot more relaxed than earlier, happier even. And looking good as usual, even if his eyes seemed tinged red. Steve bumped their noses together, stretching out as they knocked knees to ‘This Charming Man.’ Steve lifted the hand that had been resting on his stomach, to smooth along Billy’s thigh, which was bouncing restlessly - soothing along the denim there. 

“You feeling like pancakes? I’m feeling like pancakes. I’m starving.” 

***

Billy glanced down at Steve’s hand and couldn’t help the way his smile grew, leg moving a few more times before settling under Steve’s hand. It was a little funny thinking of the response it got at home, even from Tommy when they would hang out. Here there wasn’t a stop that or fuck, man, that’s annoying. Just Steve’s wide palm on his thigh, nice and comforting. 

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” he said, easing up to a sitting position and looking around. “My jacket in here?”

***

“Mm, I think it’s still out in the car.”  
Steve’d tried to get him to put it back on when they went back into the house, but Billy wasn’t having any of it, apparently. He kinda wanted to ask something like ‘are you feeling better,’ or ‘are you okay’ but he didn’t think Billy would like it. 

So instead he kissed Billy’ on his rough hewn cheek and sat up, rubbing his face and slicking back his hair – which he’d styled while Billy was in the shower – and went to grab his own jacket out of the closet.


	4. Chapter 4

Billy didn’t recognize any of the servers at the diner, used to the late night shifters. He hadn’t made a habit of it, too aware of watching eyes or troubling patterns as the guidance counselor would say, but a few times he’d frequented this place after dark, after particularly exhausting run ins at home. It was weird to be sitting there during the day and during school, especially with Steve sitting right across from him. 

He smiled a saccharine smile at the waitress and leaned forward on an elbow as he ordered a full breakfast, boot kicking out at Steve to play footsies under the table. He’d been taken out a few times—always very inconspicuously—with...the guy back in California, but this didn’t feel like that. Nothing with Steve felt like anything else, really. 

***

Steve pursed his lips together at his menu, clearly trying to hide a smile as Billy’s boot played with his Nike under the table, returning the game toe to toe as he glanced up at their waitress – who was still looking a little dazzled by Billy’s tootsie pop smile. 

“Ah yeah, Alice, can I please grab a bacon and eggs with the hot cakes stack? Thanks.”

He handed over his menu and settled back, grabbing at his OJ and sipping at it through a straw – he clenched it between his front teeth in a grin as he tangled his ankle around Billy’s, looping them together. 

It felt like a date, even if they weren’t labeling it that way, and it was making him feel good, in a territory he understood. It felt better than the namelessness they were currently running with. 

***

Billy spent the time waiting for food mostly trying not to look absolutely fucking heart eyed at the person sitting across from him. He thought a little about what it might be like to actually be doing this, going on a real date. That thought didn’t last very long, struck from his mind like erasing chalk. Steve was just on autopilot with him and that was fine by Billy. He’d take that affection and attention, just with a grain of salt. The food came in time for him to change the subject even though it was just in his head. 

“Should probably grab the Camaro, or at least swing by home sweet home and get some shit,” he said around a mouthful of toast, jiggling his foot against Steve’s, keeping their ankles locked together. “If it’s still okay to stay over, that is. It’s fine if not.”

***

Steve almost had trouble dragging his eyes away from Billy as the food arrived – but he was seriously gonna harf it down, he was starving. They hadn’t eaten much last night and his mother told him he was a garbage disposal, and he ate way too much. Steve didn’t really care right now though. 

Steve already had like three pieces of bacon down and was starting in on hacking up his pancakes into bite sized pieces with a fork and butter knife when he blinked up at Billy, stabbing his fork into a piece of fluffy dough.

“Sure! No that totally works, we could head over and I could follow you – or we could just meet back up at home?” Steve blinked at him, pancake halfway to his mouth, smiling a little. 

“Well I mean yeah, of course. That was the plan, right?” He finally stuffed the pancake into his mouth, looking towards Billy expectantly for the answer with big doe eyes.

***

Billy paused with his fork hovering above his plate, swallowing air at the word home. He was really fucking thankful he wasn’t drunk, thought if Steve had said that yesterday he might’ve lost it even worse than he had. It made him feel weirdly bashful, made him nod with a smaller, more private smile on his face before he tried to reel it in. 

“You can follow if you want, doubt anybody’s home if Neil’s gone,” he said, finally finishing his fork’s trajectory and taking a slightly ambitious bite of eggs. “Don’t think anyone really likes being there if there’s no perfunctory family shit to do.”

He looked down at his plate and then at the passing waitress—Alice, that’s what Steve had said—and signaled for a to go box. It was pretty standard fare for him, squirreling things away for later, and maybe he could just stow it away in Steve’s fridge just in case. He gave the waitress another sweet, albeit food filled and closed lipped smile when she instantly handed one over. 

“Just wanted to make sure, I guess. But—thanks, think it’ll be nice to get away from there another day or two.”

***

Steve’d studied the tiny smile that lit up Billy’s face, not too sure what he was making that kinda face for, was it something he’d said? As Steve breathed in the first half of his pancakes, he nodded, considering, a crease forming along his browline as he tried to work out what Billy was saying over the sound of his own chewing in his ears. Mouth dipping in confusion.

Perrrrrfunctory – perfunctory...was that like..perfect? It sounded a little like the word perfect…perfect…functory…hrm. Perfect family shit to do? Steve’s frown edged down his lips as he swallowed and almost choked on it, sipping at his OJ and quietly clearing his throat – glancing up in surprise at Billy getting a box. Eyebrows arching up. 

“Oh, you – you ready to go, already?” 

Steve hadn’t really taken Billy for having a peckish appetite – he had to keep that muscle on somehow. Maybe his stomach was still upset from last night??

“An’ it’s really okay. You can stay as long as you want - my parents aren’t home until the end of the month. Trust me, I don’t mind. I want you to.” 

It was true. Steve couldn’t really seem to get enough of having Billy at his house - enough of that steady, calming presence, grounding him. But even more so he liked being able to offer Billy somewhere to go - somewhere safe, where his asshole dad definitely wasn’t around.

***

“No, it’s just for later if I need it,” Billy said, willing away the fire that was starting to spread over his cheeks. Nothing sexier than saying most of the time Neil doesn’t let me finish dinner, even if Steve didn’t know that. He covered it up with a totally smooth swipe of his hand over his face and boxed the food, pushing it to the side. “I—thanks. You’re a fucking lifesaver, but you’ve got to stop being so—Jesus, I don’t know, it just makes me all—.”

He knocked his free foot against Steve’s and flapped his hand nervously, trying very fucking hard not to say anything embarrassing. Maybe this is what people felt like all the time when they liked someone. Like their good became perfect, the way Steve’s did. Like they were some barometer for human kindness, only with the added benefit of mutually wanting to fuck each other’s brains out. He thought for a second on what had happened before the shower and pushed that off and away, thought about just how many things he did that to every day.

***

Billy’d hardly eaten any of the food, really. There was more than half left, Steve thought, as he boxed it up – and really, he hadn’t eaten since…Steve wasn’t sure when. All they had yesterday was the soup he made, Billy hadn’t had lunch at school, obviously, and he suspected he might have been drunk since that morning because he hadn’t been home when Max woke up. 

That was like, not enough. Billy had to have more of an appetite than Steve - he was built like a tank. Steve didn’t really understand it – he sort of had a general idea, with the way Billy blushed, the way he said ‘need,’ and Steve knew they were kinda poor and stuff. But again, it wasn’t something Steve had ever really…experienced. But he could try to read between the lines. 

“Stop being myself?” Steve smiled at him, eyebrow quirked, his other foot toeing against Billy’s beneath the table where he’d knocked into it. “I’m not doing anything – different.” He didn’t know how to stop doing whatever. 

But then he probably went and made it worse.

He flagged Alice back down who was looking at them like they were turning into a needy table, and she better get a good tip. 

“Hey! So. Sorry. I’m really uh, hungry? Can I get another #1?”

“Sure baby, you’re in here often enough, not like I ain’t surprised, huh?” She reached out and pinched his cheek, gave Billy a big flustered look. She gathered up their empty dishes and wandered off, cracking some gum. The place was pretty dead, so she didn’t exactly have a lot of tables. 

“Thanks!” Steve called after her. Then, to Billy - “You wanna share it with me? Please? I don’t think I can eat the whole thing. And you can save the rest of that for later.” he nodded towards Billy’s box. 

***

Billy narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion before sighing, sinking back into his seat with a nod of his head. Steve was like a dog with a fucking bone, one with big, sweet eyes you’d have to be an absolute monster to say no to. Even Billy wasn’t that big of a dick, plus he definitely was still hungry. 

That thought—the way Steve kind of took everything about Billy in stride, like some kind of learning experience, it inspired a little honesty in him. If Steve was hanging tight through Billy being a complete fucking mess the day before, trying to feed him, telling them to stop fucking when Billy started to lose it, he deserved some. 

“Straight to bed without dinner is kind of like, my most popular punishment next to—well, you know. Anyway, means I’ve gotten resourceful over the past decade,” he said, spinning the box slowly, corner by corner, over the linoleum table. “Guess I’m used to saving shit or hiding it. It’s not like I’m starving or anything, clearly.”

***

Steve had a lot of things on the tip of his tongue. Things like, jesus christ your dad is such a dick. Or, that’s seriously fucked up? He had a lot of things like that. But he was thinking about when he and Billy had discussed it in the foyer at home and it had resulted in Billy storming out (through the back door.) And then they hadn’t talked in like…a month. And he didn’t really want to revisit that. He knew that his dad was a sore subject for him, and apparently pointing things out like that didn’t settle well.

And Steve knew that once he started, he wouldn’t stop. So he dropped his eyes, looked down at the linoleum and traced little lines on it with the condensation from his glass of OJ – which was half finished now. It reminded him a little of a hamster, stuffing things in his cheeks for later, but he wasn’t gonna say that, either. Didn’t think Billy’d like being compared to a hamster. Sometimes, especially around subjects like this -–it felt a little like walking on eggshells. But Steve was really good with walking on eggshells.

“Well – you don’t really have to do that with me, if you don’t want. You can always take whatever you want, and there’s always extra. You’ve seen the pantry at the house, right?” 

***

Billy opened his mouth to answer and stopped short when the new plate was put in front of them. He decided to answer by picking his fork up and cutting off a good chunk of pancakes, shoving it into his mouth and relaxing back against the booth. He probably could’ve cleared the whole plate, warred with himself before opening the to go box and stabbing at the last of the eggs in it. 

“Mhm,” he hummed around a mouthful, swallowing hard and deciding fuck it, he’d eat the leftovers. “So, grab the Camaro, swing by my house? Then back to yours?”

***

Steve felt a lot better with Billy eating again – and he idly just more so acted like he was picking at the plate in between them than actually really eating anything, because he’d eaten his entire plate and he was pretty full, actually. He just kind of let Billy go to town on it. He’d said he wasn’t exactly starving, like, like that was ridiculous, but Steve wasn’t so sure about that.

He leaned his cheek into one hand, elbow braced on the table as he smiled at Billy, observing him eating, picking at the pancakes with the other. Not paying too much attention to it, really. 

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan. Maybe we could watch a movie or something, I have a lot of them to pick from. We got a VCR a couple years ago.” 

***

Billy looked up at Steve after a minute and stopped chewing, face heating up at the expression on Steve’s face, realizing what they were doing. They were at the diner together, feet tangled up together and Steve was watching him eat like it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. He ducked his head a bit while he polished the to go box and the plate off, pushing everything to the edge of the table to signal he was done. 

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked, picking up a napkin and blindly wiping, looking back at the white square and finding nothing. “What is it?”

***

Steve hadn’t been meaning to make some big moony-eyed expression – didn’t realize he’d been doing it until Billy pointed it out. He looked away immediately, clearing his throat and taking the weight of his head from where it rested against his palm. He sipped at his orange juice instead, chewing on the straw when he glanced out the window. 

“No! No, nothing, you don’t.” Steve smiled a little around the straw, before he finished off the juice. He didn’t think Billy would appreciate how many times a day how cute he was ran through Steve’s head – and even as he was wiping at his face with a napkin, it happened again. He couldn’t freakin’ help it, okay? 

“Sorry I was uh – spacing out.” 

***

Billy hummed suspiciously but didn’t say anything, looking out the window for a minute. It was a little weird to not be at school and not be hiding out, to actually look alright enough to be out of the house while skipping. Getting to spend it with Steve, today and tomorrow felt like some kind of gift, some happy surprise he wasn’t really expect and still didn’t know how to handle. 

“You wanna get outta here? Just kinda—antsy to get going to my house over with,” he said, politely waving the waitress down and signaling for the check. “Kind of want to get back to your place as soon as I can. Like being there.”

***

“Sure.” Steve said, a faint rouge coloring his cheeks, the dip of his neck beneath his collar. 

He didn’t really want to admit how much he liked that Billy liked being there – because Steve really liked it, too. Like, a lot. It was as if he were filling this space in the house and his heart that Steve hadn’t realized was there, and even though he knew not a lot of time had passed, and that it was dangerous to be letting him fill that hole like concrete, well…he was letting him. But even concrete could break, given enough pressure..

“Well I like you being there.” Steve said quietly, a soft smiling crinkling his face before it eased. 

He glanced up at Alice bringing the check, and slid his wallet out from his back pocket. He took a twenty from the back – enough for the three meals, drinks, and a really generous tip – and handed them over before she even got the check on the table. 

“Thanks baby,” Alice said, winking at him and shuffling the twenty dollar bill away. “You boys be good, hm? Come back ‘n see us soon.” She gave Billy one last big once-over, fluffed her hair a little, and headed back to the the till to put the cash away. 

***

Billy was spacing out for most of the ride to Hawkins High, still spacing out in the Camaro on the way to his house. He was thinking about how the waitress—Alice’s giggle and hair flip was completely fucking lost on him, how pretty much every girl Tina shoved in front of him was a lost cause. He was thinking about Steve playing footsies with him and paying for breakfast like it was a date, the first actual date Billy had been on in Hawkins. 

He was still in his own head as he exited the Camaro but came back to himself when he heard another door slam closed behind him. Steve was standing in his driveway which was fucking weird but kind of dreamy, had him thinking of what he wanted to watch when they got back—Steve had said it, home. 

“C’mon, doesn’t look like Susan’s home,” he said, waving Steve along and through the mud room. He went up on his toes and felt around for the house key, sighing in relief when his fingers closed around it. Another weird thing was swinging the door open and not worrying about it knocking into the wall behind it, no Neil to scream at him about disrespecting his house. “It’s not much, but—it’ll just take me a second to grab my shit.”

***

Steve followed after Billy into the little house with the yellow door and sunporch, looking around with new eyes because he’d never been here before – and he’d seen all of the other’s houses. He wasn’t particularly surprised or seemingly affected by the less than rich house on Old Cherry Road – he completely took it in stride. 

The threadbare rugs, the water stained ceiling, the thrift store furniture, and little feminine touches obviously from Susan, like the faded drapery and lackluster throw pillows. It reminded him a little of Will’s house – and Steve spent a lot of time there. He really liked going over to the Byers’, it was easily one of his favorite places to be, really. And it was probably because of the presence of Neil in the back of his mind, but this house didn’t feel like the Byers’, even if it was a little less than perfect in the same kind of way. 

The Byers’ house felt more lived in – with little touches here and there, more knick knacks, Steve guessed, and pictures of the family. This house felt emptier. Hollow, somehow. Like the heart of it was missing. Felt like Steve’s house in that way. He wasn’t sure he liked it. He swallowed and kept up on Billy’s heels. “Um. It’s nice. Never been here before.” 

***

“Yeah, you can probably see why I’m in a hurry to get the fuck out,” Billy said over his shoulder, not passing anything in the house a glance as he pushed his bedroom door open. 

There was a big blank spot where his stereo used to be and he tried not to linger too long on the two lonely speakers on either side, reaching into his closet instead. The duffel bag he hid up top would be good enough so he pulled it down, throwing his favorite leather jacket and a few shirts inside. He couldn’t foresee trying to have sex today but he put his tightest jeans inside anyway, just for safekeeping. 

“That’ll do, I guess. Two days’ worth, right?” he asked, tempted even against what consequences would happen to put a week’s worth in the bag. 

***

Yeah. Yeah Steve could sorta see that. But he also didn’t wanna seem like some snooty bastard that was only agreeing because he lived in a house filled with money – it really wasn’t that. Steve had been in some of the lower class houses in Hawkins, he didn’t live under a rock, and he didn’t think he was judgy about it. There was just something off here. He wouldn’t have wanted to stay either.  
But he didn’t say anything, he just kinda shrugged.

He stood by Billy’s doorway as he threw some stuff in his bag, hands shoved in his pockets as he studied Billy’s room. This was something he’d been looking forward to eagerly, unlike the rest of the house. He took a few steps farther in as he searched out the room, interested in how it would reflect Billy, head tilted with curiosity. He noticed Billy’s attention lingering on a big blank spot by the wall, on top of a shelf. Steve wondered what had been there before, if anything.  
He blinked and stepped toward a bookshelf with some cassettes on it to poke through them while Billy kept packing, interested in what kind of music he had. 

“Hm? Oh yeah, isn’t that what Susan said? Right?” Steve looked up from a Van Halen tape he was studying. “You have a lot of music.” It was weird because he didn’t see a tape deck anywhere. Maybe he just used them in his car. He kept perusing, observing Billy’s ramshackle vanity with all sorts of stuff on top - trying to catch the name of the cologne he used without being obvious. 

***

Billy kneeled next to his bed, feeling for the packs of cigarettes he usually stashed there. A few granola bars fell from their spots and he sighed before tucking them back under the boards, finally pulling out two packs of Marlboro Reds and throwing them into the duffel. 

“Yeah, used to have a good stereo for those and the records,” he said, shrugging as he zipped the bag closed. “Gotta go steal one or—I dunno, auto shop’s hiring I guess, they like how nice I keep the Camaro.”

***

Steve frowned at Billy’s chipmunk tendencies – not because he did it, but because he apparently had to. Jesus he wished he could get Billy out of here, too. But again, he didn’t want to poke a sleeping bear – Billy’d already said why he couldn’t get out yet. But even when he turned 18 – what then? Max and Susan would still be here. What then? 

Steve turned on his spot to study the blank space – so that was where the stereo must’ve been. Chewing that over.

“What happened to it? Something that big would be pretty hard to walk out with, probably.” Steve said slowly. “Have they asked to hire you? I’m supposed to get a summer job soon, too…was thinking about applying at that new mall that’s opening. Starcourt.”

***

“Yeah, asked a few times but I was kinda waiting to send out college applications. Guess I should just bite the bullet and go in, be a good excuse to be outta the house,” Billy said, standing up and rolling his neck out, tongue between his teeth in a smile. “That’d be cute, think I’d be a mall rat again to come visit.”

He swept his eyes over the room one last time, trying to make sure there wasn’t anything he was forgetting. Anything important was hidden away and Neil probably wouldn’t be back early if it was for this particular shitty anniversary so he didn’t exactly need to make a hasty grab for letters or jewelry. Steve’s question weighed on his mind and he shrugged at first, leading them out into the hallway with the corner of his mouth turned down. 

“Didn’t get hit by a car like you thought,” he said eventually, grabbing the house key out of where he’d stuck it in his jeans while he waved Steve out. He locked up and went on his toes again to hide the key, turning back to Steve. “Ready to go?”

***

“Were you a mall rat before?” Steve’d smiled back, gaze flickering down to that elusive tongue that he liked so well, the one that liked to tease him so much. He guessed he’d never realized how much until it was halfway down his throat. They’d never had a mall in Hawkins, so it was a pretty new thing around here – people were either excited or they were picketing it because it was going to ‘ruin small businesses.’ Steve fell into the excited category – the closest mall was at least an hour away. It was the one he’d invited Billy to on a ‘date.’ 

As they were heading out into the hall, Steve gave his room one last glance – his thoughts wandering about the posters on the wall, and about that girl on the wall. He thought he knew that girl, Tommy’d talked about her – that porn star that killed herself. It was a little eerie to have on the wall. 

At the explanation for the missing stereo, Steve’s stomach dropped. Soured. He wished he hadn’t eaten so many goddamn pancakes now. The house felt even more oppressive than it had before, and he kept his eyes on the carpet and didn’t really look at Billy as he clenched his jaw and followed him out towards the sun porch. It made him feel like he couldn’t breathe, being in there – he knew it was in his head, but still. He hated Neil. Hated the guy. How did you fuck somebody up with a stereo, that looked like a car accident? It made Steve cringe, made his skin crawl. He wanted to get away from here. He wanted to keep Billy away, too. 

“Oh.” He said stupidly. He also hated how tongue-tied he had to be about Neil Hargrove, when there was so much he wanted to say, could say, but also...couldn’t. He hated how his hands were so fucking tied, like he’d discovered that month when they hadn’t spoken. He hated feeling powerless to help Billy. He wanted to say ‘you could just never go back,’ in response to the comment about two days now. But he just said oh. 

***

Billy winced at himself, suddenly very aware that he was on his front porch with Steve Harrington in broad daylight after admitting to something Neil had done. In view of his neighborhood and whatever spies Neil probably had. His hands were shaking before the thought had even fully absorbed, one reaching unsteadily for his keys. 

“I’ll meet you there, okay?” he said quickly, almost jittery as he made his way to the Camaro, getting in so fast he was surprised he didn’t take his head off on the doorframe. 

He pushed the door open once he’d gotten into the winding concrete of Steve’s driveway, already half out and talking before he’d shut the door behind him, duffel bag over his shoulder. 

“Sorry, I just get paranoid. Neil makes friends with neighbors and shit to—I dunno, keep an eye. Didn’t wanna get you in trouble.”

Or myself. 

***

Steve climbed out of his car, feeling a little wary – something had clearly been off before they’d left, and Steve was feeling particularly down after they’d gone to the house, so it had been worrying in the back of his head that maybe he’d done or said something wrong. He just wanted to curl up with Billy on the couch and watch some movie that was really fluffy and light hearted so that he could try and forget the rest of the world – and Billy’s world – for just a few more days. 

He looked at Billy with steady, dark eyes, his shoulders set apprehensively as he locked up the BMW and started towards the front door. However, he glanced in surprise at Billy at the reason – Neil again. Fuck. Fuck. Steve lapsed into silence. Billy was fucking terrified of him – Steve’d seen his hands shaking. 

Steve rubbed at his eyes, keys dangling from one thumb as he tried to reel it in – he really fucking tried – but he felt like he’d been biting his tongue about it half of the day, yesterday too, over his own dad helping to get him drunk instead of, you know, helping him deal with his grief in a healthy way and – Steve’s aunt would tell him he was ‘such a Taurus’ because he had a really long fuse and he could take a lot of shit but it really only went so far, because suddenly he burst out ‘Yeah well fuck those guys. I’m not scared of them. Or your dad. You should just – tell Hopper.’ 

Shit. Steve snapped his mouth shut. Went to the door, averting his eyes, shoulders set more with agitation now. He just knew what was gonna happen now, Billy was gonna get all defensive, and wouldn’t want to stay, and – him and his big freaking mouth. He jiggled the keys in the door handle to get it open, swallowing hard. 

***

Billy’s mouth twisted up and he settled the bag more reliably over his shoulder, following Steve inside. He set it down gingerly on the entryway floor and bent, slipping his boots off and lining them up as neatly as he could. He kept swallowing but the lump in his throat was still there, his eyes welling up no matter how many times he blinked, looking at the floor. It felt like he was tracking mud everywhere, all over everything. 

“Can—is it okay? Can I still stay?” he asked, clearing his throat to try and sound normal. 

***

Steve could feel himself working himself into a mood. Which in some small, quiet, part of the back of his mind he really regretted, because he just wanted happy movie time and Billy was staying for two days. It wasn’t a good way to start it off. And that same detached part of his mind recognized that this was the result of him constantly pushing down his emotions and reactions to certain things Billy had said or indicated about these super fucked up things because he felt like if he did or said anything that it would spook Billy off like last time. 

But he’d just bottled it up and now it was all coming to the surface and….Steve just regretted it. He thought he’d been trying not to pretend everything was fine and normal, because he'd already learned how that could backfire before, and he was in the same damn situation. He kicked his own Nikes off against the wall and left them there in a pile as he leaned moodily against the wall, arms crossed, huffing and staring at Billy with burning brown eyes. 

He wasn’t mad at Billy. He was upset at Neil. He was upset at the situation Billy was in. He was upset about being fucking powerless when, when he’d faced much worse things and won. So why the fuck was this happening and nothing could be done? What was Steve supposed to do? Murder the guy and bury him in a ditch? Sneak in and poison his food? Tell the cops and have them not be able to do anything because Billy wouldn’t say anything? He’d barely told Steve. There was no logical option.

Somehow it pissed him off even more, Billy asking him that, in that same fucking meek voice that he’d used with Neil. Like he’d get in trouble. Steve felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, inexplicably. However, when Steve spoke, his voice sounded strained, but it was level enough. Not raised or anything, even if it seemed like an active decision. 

“Babe. What did I say that makes you think you have to ask? That it wouldn’t still be okay?” 

Steve sighed and covered his face with one large hand, eclipsing his emotions. Head tilted down, gesturing with his free hand. “I can’t – I can’t just not say something. Okay? I can’t do it. I’m already – I’m - there’s already too many things I can never say, that I’m gagged on, ‘bound to secrecy’ or whatever and I – I can’t fucking handle not...saying something.” He didn’t have the fucking room in his brain. “There’s already too much. But the last time I said something you left and we didn’t talk for weeks, and I just – I fucking hate it. I hate that this is happening to you, and I can’t DO anything, and it’s just – it’s just – fucked up, it’s fucked up, and I can’t HELP you,” Steve’s words were slowly, steadily coming faster, rushing from a steady trickle to more of a gushing river of word vomit. “I CAN’T JUST SAY ‘OH.’” 

The FOOD and the BEER and the GODDAMN STEREO and the way Billy acted like it was SO NORMAL. 

“I just..I need to be able to...I don’t know. Talk to you without thinking that you’ll get upset, or think I’m kicking you out or something.” Like just now. “Or leave.” 

***

Billy thought of the word trammel, one they’d been discussing in class a few weeks ago. It meant an obstacle, creating one to hinder a person’s ability, their freedom to act. People used them on horses to make them move slower and people used them to trap fish. Neil used it on him in a million different ways. Hearing Steve tell him that he needed to be able to talk about how fucked up Neil was without Billy getting upset—it felt like that and it just made him cry more, made him realize he was crying in the first place. 

“I-I’m-it’s upsetting, I can’t help—I’m—“

He was looking at Steve and trying to be flabbergasted but Steve just looked like a big blob in front of him, his shoulders hunched up to his ears in embarrassment. He didn’t want to leave, he wasn’t going to leave, but he didn’t know how to stop being upset. 

“Not—leaving, I’m—sorry I just can’t st—sorry.”

He was taking hiccuping breaths and it was just making him more agitated. He sounded like a fucking baby but he was glued to the spot, stuck in some whirlpool he couldn’t climb out of. 

***

“Shit,” Steve breathed, not entirely audible. And then again, louder, but exhausted sounding – “I meant angry. At me, for saying something. It’s okay to cry, you don’t have to be sorry, I just…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Steve frowned stiffly at the ground, studying the linoleum at his socks.

“Just…just nevermind, okay?” He couldn’t believe how tired he felt. He needed a nap. He felt kind of shaky and not okay. He slowly slid down the wall to hunch down on the linoleum on his ass because he didn’t want to keep standing up. He held his arms out like they weighed a million pounds and the gesture was costing him. 

“C’mere, sweetheart. ‘m sorry. Okay? ‘m sorry.” 

***

Billy stumbled on uneasy feet and plopped down facing Steve, crawling between his legs and into the embrace offered. His face was still all broken up and wet and his breaths still sounded like a little kid crying but he tried to stop, tried to hear it’s okay and sweetheart. 

“I know you just—give a shit, I’m sorry it’s hard. I’m sorry it’s so f-ucked up,” he said, curling up and letting his head rest in the middle of Steve’s chest. “I won’t get mad. I won’t leave, I just—I don’t know.”

He lifted his head to look at Steve, who looked weary, a little bit unsteady. His hand moved up to touch Steve’s hair hesitantly and he sniffed hard, free hand swiping at his face. 

“I know it’s fucked up but when you seem—when you’re all upset about Neil and shit, I just. It’d be easier for everybody if it wasn’t happening but it is and I’ve been handling it but now it’s affecting other people and it just, the only thing that’ll make it stop affecting anyone is if I’m gone. I know it’s fucked up but if I wasn’t so fucked up you wouldn’t—look like that.”

***

Steve curled his arms around Billy’s shoulders and hugged him tight, resting his cheek on the top of his curly crown, eyes closed, arms crossed behind Billy’s back at the wrists. He tried to breathe through his nose but his chest ached, like his lungs were too small, and he couldn’t get in any air. His eyes were screwed up so tight they kind of hurt. He felt like he was going to throw up. He was thinking about the blank spot on the shelf and the granola bars falling out at the house. He was gonna fucking throw up.

“It’s not a matter of it being easier for everybody, or for me. It’s not that it’s hard to deal with. I just…I hate that you’re having to go through it. Shit, Billy, you’re not fucked up, okay? Fucked up things are happening to you. I look like this – feel like this – because I, I fucking…care about you, and you don’t…you don’t deserve this shit. You don’t. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. You just, you just say some of these things like, like they’re normal, but they’re not – you shouldn’t have to be hungry, or hit with a goddamn stereo, or…or any of it…” 

***

“I mean it is, it’s normal for me. I don’t—there’s no fix, there’s nothing anybody can do to fix it. I’m stuck,” Billy said, mouth shutting tight at his last sentence. 

Stuck. He was fucking stuck. The cops couldn’t help, he couldn’t upend Susan and Max’s lives, he didn’t want Steve to get fucked up. He didn’t know what normal was. 

“What’s normal? What should I be? Why do you? Care?”

***

“But it shouldn’t be. Normal. And I mean, I…if you just told Hop…He can do something. I swear it. He’ll do something, he’ll fix it. He can fix anything.”

Steve sighed the words, sounding a little like he was begging, because he was. 

“And normal is…normal is…” Steve grasped for the definition of that word. Did Steve have normal? No, probably not. Maybe a little closer to it than Billy, though. The closest he could think of to normal was maybe…maybe Nancy’s family. They were normal. They were as normal as they came. They were also miserable. The better side of normal was the Byers’ family, but they were fucking cursed or something, apparently. The universe hated them. 

“I don’t know,” Steve muttered into Billy’s hair, “But it’s not this. And I...I care because you’re my friend. More...than my friend. And because you’re a good person, that deserves better. I want you to be happy.”

***

Billy woke up to the sounds of If You Were Here playing, the light from the television flicking over his face. He’d slept through the last half of the movie but he couldn’t find it in him to be bothered. It was too nice of a nap, especially after everything. 

He’d agreed to some new terms in the foyer, even did an actual fucking pinky swear when Steve had demanded it. He was going to come over when things got bad, no matter what. He wasn’t going to storm out when Steve started talking about Neil and they were both going to try not to fight about it again. Steve was dead serious when he’d said he cared about Billy and Billy knew that now, even if it still didn’t quite add up. 

They’d both gotten up eventually and Steve had ordered a pizza and ordered Billy to curl up on the couch and pick a movie. After it arrived they’d both eaten laying down, Billy draped over Steve like he had his very own body pillow. He’d picked Sixteen Candles and hoped Steve didn’t like, telepathically know that Billy pictured Steve Harrington instead of Jake Ryan every time he’d watched it since they met. Now he was awake enough to see his favorite part, the one he’d pictured. Sitting on top of his shitty dining room table in his shitty house across from Steve, kissing him over a fucking cake. 

“Steve, ‘re you my boyfriend?”

***

Steve was still drowsing, the weight of Billy spread over him a comforting one that had lulled him into sleep in the first place, and he wasn’t keen to leave it. He was in that in between place where he was still asleep, and still half awake, where he could hear what was going on the movie but it felt like dreaming. He could even feel Billy shift above him, which felt surreal too, and Steve let out a little breathy sound as he resettled himself on the pure white sofa. 

His arms were looped loosely around Billy’s waist, slender hands spread out over the small of his back, mouth hanging open just enough to probably look stupid. Puffy brown hair splayed out over the arm of the couch.

“Steve, ‘re you my boyfriend?” Asked dream Billy.

“Mm,” Steve hummed, shifting his head on the cushion as a little smile played at the edge of his lips. Eyes closed, and drifting in that dreamy, in between place. “Mmhmmm yeah..” He murmured, sleepily. Happily. Breath rising and falling steadily beneath Billy’s cheek, the slow pace of sleep. “If you want me t’be.” 

***

Billy smiled and frowned in the same moment, lifting his head to get a good look at Steve. Then he rolled his eyes and poked at Steve’s cheek; asshole was still sleeping. Handsome asshole, still an asshole. 

“Steve, wake up, I’m asking you out,” he said loudly, patting gently at Steve’s face and smiling in a way he really couldn’t help. It was big and fond and worlds happier than he’d been feeling earlier, something about Steve easing that out of him. Something like normal. 

***

Steve blinked himself awake slowly as somebody was poking at him, telling him to wake up. He hummed a questioning sound as he squinted at the light from the television in the otherwise dark living room – when had it gotten dark? He needed to turn the lights on, but…Steve blinked blearily again, focusing on Billy’s face – which hovered only inches from his own. Painted bright with the colors from the screen and Sixteen Candles. Wait, asking him out? And smiling at Steve in a way that made his heart feel like breaking in a good way. 

“You’re…huh? Really?” He definitely blinked himself awake that time, really awake, a slow smile splitting his face open with a flash of white teeth – lit up blue by the glow of the TV flashing. “You are?” 

***

“Mhm, I am,” Billy said, caught up staring at Steve’s smile before his gaze drifted up. “You gonna be my very own Jake Ryan? Don’t think I’d fit in that dress, but...”

He folded his hands together over Steve’s chest and rested his chin there, batting his eyelashes up at Steve as convincingly as he could before he was smiling too hard. There was no chance Steve was going to say no, no way. Right? He’d been the one to say I like you first and he looked pretty happy right now at the prospect. He was doing that whole Prince Charming smile, the one that made his teeth big and blindingly bright, made his long nose look like a fucking sculpture in the middle of his perfect face. 

***

“But Samantha, this is so sudden,” Steve laughed as Billy batted those long, long eyelashes at him so prettily, his Billy, looking all hazy and soft above him with those perfect curls and striking, electric blue eyes in the dark.

He’d really felt more like the Geek trying to get with Samantha (badly) than being Samantha’s Jake Ryan. King of the Dipwads. But hell, he’d take being Jake if Billy was offering. Steve’s own lashes lowered a bit, his smile warming even more, dark eyes all lit up. 

“’course I will.” 

Steve thought about Somebody I can love, that's gonna love me back. He stretched his neck up to peck Billy on the nose. 

“Think I can get a pair of your panties? Promise I’ll give ‘em back like a real gentleman.” 

***

“Guess my wish already came true,” Billy said, smiling so hard it made his nose wrinkle, the kind he always hated making because Max would say he looked like a fucking rabbit. 

It was kind of worth it to feel happy enough to do it, even when Steve kissed the nose in question. To his credit he didn’t even bat him away, just stayed still and scrunched his face up in distaste. No way was he moving from this fucking spot, not when it was so perfect just for this little pocket of time. 

“Mm, that one doesn’t really work for me. Don’t own a single pair.”

***

Steve smiled, rubbing their noses together – enjoying the way Billy’s had this little wrinkle at the bridge, scrunched up in this adorable way. In a low tone, in the back of his throat, Steve started humming If you were Here, and leaned up to press his lips to Billy’s – they could have practically been over that lit up birthday cake. Following after Billy’s line - the scene that had just played, and now it was rolling through the credits. It would hit the blue screen soon and start to rewind.

His right leg was asleep, but he just wrapped his arms more securely around Billy’s back, pulling him tighter to his chest. He felt perfect. This was a perfect moment. Compared to earlier, he hadn’t thought that would be possible tonight. It was a light, close mouthed kiss, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathed in gently through his nose. 

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Yeah, I guess that’s fair,” about the panties. 

***

The next two days were...fucking surreal. 

To Billy, the weirdest part was not fucking. Not for the rest of the weekend, not even a hint of it. They’d made out in most of the house for want of anything better to do; in the kitchen while Steve made dinner, in the foyer when Billy went to get his duffel bag, on the couch before they played Nintendo, in bed before they fell asleep and when they woke up. Billy had tried once or twice to ask Steve, still too emotionally shaky to want to but figuring Steve might. All he’d gotten were chaste kisses on his forehead and confusing little hugs, distracted urges to keep playing games with him. 

It was nice. It was really, really fucking nice. He felt like he was really getting to have that elusive normal with his first legitimate...boyfriend. Steve was his boyfriend, they were boyfriends. Boyfriends who ate dinner together and fell asleep like a pair of parentheses, who woke up together (Billy first, while Steve slept like the dead until prodded), who shared stupid little secrets and laughed at each other’s jokes. 

Getting home on Sunday was fine, even, with Neil not getting in until after dinner and too tired to zero in on Billy even once. It was about as perfect as Billy had ever felt. So fucking perfect that he’d caught Max eyeing him on the drive to school on Monday like he had grown a second head and he didn’t even feel annoyed. 

Perfect. 

***

Steve had a bounce in his step when he woke up (okay after he had his ritual coffee and minimum of an hour,) and he had a bounce in his step when he picked up Dustin and dropped him off. He had a bounce in his step when he parked the Beamer, humming/low key singing under his breath This is the Day (which was just playing in the car, he had The The on tape) as he walked across the parking lot to school, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders relaxed and thrown back, chin up. Backpack on.

The last couple days had been awesome, they’d been relaxing and perfect and honestly everything Steve could have ever asked for. It was honestly the best he’d felt in…months. More so even than when they’d only had sex. It was better than that. Steve glanced around and didn’t see the Camaro yet, so he decided to wait – leaning against the brick side of the building, sort of close to the doors, dreamily replaying that last couple of days in his head like a favorite movie that he had memorized. 

He kept humming, bobbing his head along with the tune, whispering a couple of the verses under his breath. He had the same dumb smile across his face he’d had when he woke up - and he might look a little crazy, but he also couldn’t seem to get rid of it, either. 

***

Billy was actively searching for the BMW, even went as far as parking next to it instead of the spot he’d unofficially designated as his. He tried not to look disappointed when he saw that it was empty, just swung out of the Camaro and lit a cigarette like usual. Except Steve was leaning up against the brick, smiling in a way that made Billy smile around his smoke, shutting the car door gently despite the urge to kick it closed and rush over. 

“Harrington,” he said, his voice a slow purr as he walked closer, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “You look chipper.”

***

Despite sort of zoning out, Steve immediately picked up on Billy as he approached across the asphalt – it was difficult to miss the arrival of the Camaro. It’s engine was louder than anything else around, you could hear it coming for miles, practically. Steve’s smile widened as Billy approached, the kind that hurt your cheeks, and he really tried to tone it down. He thought he succeeded, probably.

This buzz of energy and electricity washed over him as Billy got closer, and it felt like he hadn’t seen him in forever, not just a night. The rumble of that voice practically made him shiver. 

“Hey Hargrove,” Steve said, eyebrows raising a bit in delight at his presence, like everything was right with the world. 

His Ray-Bans were perched on top of his head in that perfectly styled pompadour, and he’d carefully chosen his outfit today – a pale yellow button up, with the sleeves rolled up, and dark wash blue jeans. It was nice enough out today that he didn’t even need his jacket – he’d left it in the car. His thumbs were still hooked into his pockets as he straightened against the bricks to join Billy, and the song kept playing in his head.

“Yeah. Guess I had a really good weekend.”

***

Billy made sure he was facing Steve and only Steve when he smiled back, his small and private and hopeful, though he’d never call it that. He let the expression pass as he turned, standing next to Steve on the wall and taking another long drag, one boot up against the wall. 

“It was nice, huh?” he said quietly, mouth picking up at one corner as he looked ahead, watching cars park and gaggles of teenagers crawl out. He spotted Tommy’s stupid fucking lemon a mile away but decided to ignore it for another minute. “You wanna do it again soon? If it works out? Your parents aren’t back until the 28th, that’s what your little calendar said.”

***

Steve leaned his head back against the rough bricks, humming in agreement as he could practically feel Billy’s body heat not far off – nearly shoulder to shoulder, even with at least a foot or two between them. Close enough. 

“The best,” Steve nodded, watching as everybody milled across the parking lot as they got closer and closer to the warning bell. He saw Tommy pull up a ways off, and also Nancy and Jonathan (in Jonathan’s car, of course. He drove them a lot, just like Steve used to drive Nance, since she didn’t have a car yet.) Steve figured the two would draw them apart from each other, sooner rather than later. 

“That’d be awesome. If we can find a time that works for you, any weekend is good for me.” Which meant a time that Billy’s dad would actually say yes. “I just have the shitheads on Fridays.” 

Steve tipped his head a little to the right, glancing at the sharp line of Billy’s profile, lit up by sunlight. He loved when Billy picked up on small details like that – he was always so observant, about everything, and he remembered everything. “And yeah, that’s right. I’m surprised you remembered.” Even though he wasn’t, really. Surprised. “Maybe we could go to The Hawk.”

***

Billy straightened up a bit at the indirect praise, trying not to look too pleased and generally succeeding. The idea of going to see a movie with Steve was promising, even if he might need to finagle a way to actually get there without it being suspicious to Neil. He was brainstorming when he heard his name being called across the lot, eyes rolling as he eased up off the wall. 

“I’ll walkie you tonight, yeah? Max’ll cough it up,” he said, finally looking over at Steve and realizing exactly why he hadn’t been. Jesus, he was devastating. “See you, Stevie.”

He walked off without a glance backwards, couldn’t get away with it even if he’d wanted to. His hand flapped in an annoyed, restless gesture as Tommy and Carol followed him in, Tina latching on somewhere along the way. Thankfully he didn’t have classes with any of them, just other seniors he never interacted with, a few with Wheeler. He tried not to look at her at all, locked the jealousy away for now in favor of savoring the past few days. 

He was daydreaming at his usual table when he heard Steve laughing, head shooting up to find the source. What he found made him feel like someone dumped a fucking bucket of ice water over his head. 

***

Nance kept poking him in the ribs. She’d even switched sides of the table to do it, because she’d been on the opposite side with Jonathan before. But apparently she was feeling determined.

“C’mon Steeeeve, tell me! Tell meeee,” She grinned at him, poking him in the side again. 

Steve jerked and tried to pull away, trying to choke down a laugh.  
“J-Je-sus, nance, st-stop, no, nothing’s different!”

“Yes there is! C’mon, you can tell us! It’s just us! I know that look, Steve.”

Well of course she would be the one to recognize that look, probably, but… - Steve laughed again at another assault, trying to squirm away from her on the bench. 

“S-seriously Nance stop, not the time or place, y’know?” He gasped.

“I think it’s the perfect time and place!” 

Why did he have to be so damn ticklish? How was it that she didn’t have a ticklish bone in her body? Steve’d tried that before. Was probably how she’d figured out HE was ticklish and it was the perfect way to get him to talk, just to make the torture end.

“Who is sheeee? You don’t have to keep it a secret! It’ll be good, trust me, we can double date!” 

Yeah, yeah no, even if it – even if it was like that, there was no way, no way Steve would go on a double date with Nancy and Jonathan. Literally, hell would have to freeze over first. Or in this case, the Upside Down. 

“Nancy, maybe you should give him a break – “ Jonathan started, but she clearly ignored him. 

“Mike told me about that note from that girl, Steve! You look so happy! And you keep grinning like you’re in loooove, so! Tell me! I need details!”

Steve was red in the face as he tried to keep from laughing but she was tickling at his ribs and he almost fell off the bench. “Nance, stop!”

He just wanted to eat his food and daydream more in peace, dammit. But he guessed that’s probably what had tipped her off. 

He had a good idea of why she was so keen to know. She’d been pushing him about dating somebody for months - and he highly suspected it was because then she wouldn’t have to feel, he didn’t know..guilty, or something, about what had happened. Because Steve would have moved on. 

***

Billy knew what his face was doing. He could feel the sneer spreading across it, the way his shoulders started to seize up. The happy feeling was souring into that jealousy he’d been trying to keep at bay. He watched while Wheeler touched Steve, something intimate and familiar about it. He watched Steve laugh and squirm and that petulance built and built and—

“Earth to Hargrove,” Tommy said, clapping Billy on the back at just the wrong time. 

He flinched and slapped Tommy’s arm away, face scrunched up in irritation. Then he stood up so fast his tray slipped off of the cafeteria table, applesauce and soda and whatever Hawkins High called Mac and cheese sliding to the floor. He heard Tommy say Jesus but ignored him otherwise, taking a deep breath through his nose before schooling his face into something a little more normal. 

“Gonna smoke,” he said offhandedly, stepping over his mess on his way out of the cafeteria, hand searching blindly for his pack. 

***

The three of them looked up at the unmistakable sound of a tray hitting the floor, Nancy’s fingers pausing on Steve’s side as he swatted her away. His dark eyes drifted up for the source, and he immediately frowned when he realized it had come from Billy’s table – more than that, seemed like it was Billy’s tray. 

Still breathing a little hard from laughing too much, Steve tracked Billy across the cafeteria towards the doors, a tense set to his shoulders, patting down pockets for smokes. 

“Weird, wonder what happened?” Nancy said. 

“Maybe he finally had enough of Tommy.” Jonathan smiled at her with that little, shy smile he always did. 

“Maybe.” Steve grabbed his apple off of his own tray. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hey Steve, wait – “ Nance called after him, but he was already following after Billy as normal chatter resumed in the lunchroom. He ducked out of the side doors of the cafeteria, glancing around for Billy. 

***

Billy looked over his shoulder before turning the corner out of the cafeteria, Steve’s wild hair bouncing in his vision. He almost, almost smiled at the sight of him but that jealousy reared up again into something borderline embarrassing. His fingers finally found his pack of cigarettes so he took one out, perching it between his lips and pushing the double doors open that lead outside. 

“Hey,” he said, totally casual, definitely not upset about anything stupid like watching Steve get fucking tickled by his ex. He lit the cigarette and sure enough Steve was just a few feet away, almost comforting enough to remove that jealousy. Almost. 

***

It felt weird being in the alley with Billy. It was the same alley that connected to the gym – the one you could see the playing fields from if you looked south. Steve was out here a lot. 

“Hey.” Steve rolled the apple around between his palms as he followed after Billy almost like a puppy, holding it out as Billy lit up. 

“Saw what happened to your lunch – you okay?” He was studying Billy’s face, trying to determine why he looked so put off – he’d seemed fine earlier in the morning, happy even. 

Steve wondered if he’d seen Nancy fucking interrogating him, and thought maybe Steve’d told, but he hadn’t… he knew how touchy Billy would be if people found out. He was terrified of his own neighbors when Steve just went to his house. 

***

“Wheeler do that all the time? Paw at you?” Billy said before he could tell himself shut the fuck up, leaning back against the brick like maybe looking cool enough would make Steve completely forget it. “It’s fine, Tommy’d probably eat it right off the floor if I touched it first. That guy’s even gayer than I am, I’m fucking calling it.”

He took a drag and blew it out, away from Steve even though he figured Steve didn’t mind it. His eyes wandered over Steve’s outfit, catching on the front of his dark jeans and then moving over the yellow of his shirt, the muscles of his forearms. That jealousy wasn’t waning, just making him hungry. 

***

Steve’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, finally starting to catch his breath from his laughter before. But now he almost laughed again, but was able to low key convert it into a smile. Wait, was…was Billy jealous? Of Nancy’s whole thing in there? 

No way. Billy – Billy wouldn’t get jealous, right? But he definitely seemed to be. Steve couldn’t talk, because he couldn’t throw rocks when he lived in a glass house – because he knew he had jealousy issues himself. Usually he was pretty okay with stuff that was from the past, those things couldn’t be changed – he wasn’t exactly going to be jealous about those guys Billy had been with in Cali, even if they made him kind of sad, because Billy deserved so much more. So much better. But if that guy – the one Billy had said he’d almost kind of dated, showed up and started hanging all over him, well. Steve would have a bone to pick with jealousy, and he knew it. 

But there was legitimately no reason here for Billy to be jealous, there really wasn’t. Nancy’d made it clear who she wanted, and Steve was over it. But Steve couldn’t help but find it rather endearing that Billy was sulking around and being jealous over Nance, especially now that they were officially a thing. Steve figured that just meant he cared.

Steve stood in the middle of the alleyway just in front of Billy instead of leaning along with him. One hand cocked on his hip, resting most of his weight on one leg. “No, she actually doesn’t.” Steve smiled a little, a crooked thing that tipped up only one corner of his mouth - those big dark doe eyes flicking up to Billy’s. “She does that when she’s trying to get me to talk. You aren’t jealous – are you? You know she’s with Jonathan.” 

Steve felt Billy’s gaze crawl over him, zeroing in on the front of his jeans, and he felt something warm respond to that gaze in the pit of his stomach. Steve tossed the apple to Billy. 

***

Billy caught the apple with the hand not holding his cigarette and wrinkled his nose, taking a large bite before throwing it back. He flicked the cigarette away while he chewed, suddenly very interested in looking up at the sky above Steve’s head. He grunted in response and leaned more heavily against the brick, like maybe it would do him a favor and swallow him whole. 

“No, I am not jealous,” he said around the last little mouthful, glancing at Steve and smiling a small, closed lipped smile. “Don’t look at me like that.”

***

Steve caught the apple back, wished Billy’d kept the rest of it considering he’d just dumped his lunch on the floor. He was kind of imagining Tommy in there scooping it up to eat it now, just shoveling it in, which was ridiculous. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t telling Billy about Tommy.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Steve said, still smiling like Billy was particularly adorable, big ole’ heart eyes or whatever. Like they were in a cartoon. “She was trying to interrogate me because – “ He cleared his throat, blushing a little as he glanced at the dirt. “Because she said I look all ‘in love’ and between that and the note with the guys – she just won’t let it drop.” 

***

Billy’s eyes moved to the ground with Steve’s and stayed there while Steve talked, his smile growing until all of his teeth were showing. He was picturing the look on Steve’s face before he’d averted his eyes, almost infatuated or something. It made his shoulders draw up for reasons that had nothing to do with tension, nothing to do with any of the negative emotions from before. 

“Yeah? That why?” he asked, sighing in something like relief before looking up at Steve through his lashes. “You feel like blowing off the rest of lunch somewhere?”

***

“Yeah, that’s why.” 

Steve brought his gaze back up to meet Billy’s, chocolate to sky blue, liking the way Billy was looking at him through those long, perfect lashes. Like he was something that mattered. And he had this big smile on that made Steve’s heartbeat pick up, racing in his chest. Jesus he didn’t know if it was just the whole being boyfriends thing that made him feel different now, because he’d been pretty giddy over the whole thing before, but now that they were like – an item or whatever – he felt like a total twelve year old. Like he couldn’t breathe around Billy. He was supposed to have a reputation, you know? He’d been around. But he was falling all over himself. He nodded dumbly in reply, sweeping a hand through his hair to get that nice windswept look.

“I do. I really do. Where’d you have in mind?” Steve blinked. “Wait. I know a good place?” 

***

Billy gestured out of the alley with his eyebrows raised, smiling when Steve started walking. He got back to daydreaming pretty fucking easily by watching Steve lead the way, eyes lingering on the long lines of his legs, that ass in those jeans. He’d purposely worn the tightest ones he had, the ones that he’d packed that weekend but never managed to wear, caught up relaxing in sweats instead. 

As they reached the library Billy had a good idea of Steve’s plan. The jealousy he might’ve had sort of turned into something turned on instead. The idea of hiding out in one of the study rooms where Steve had probably fooled around with plenty of chicks, getting added to that list—it was definitely working. 

“You wanna study?” he asked innocently, shutting the door with his back, crossing his ankles and watching Steve close the blinds. 

***

Once Steve got the blinds twisted closed, and the door was locked behind them – why did they add a lock and blinds unless they expected people to fuck in here? – he turned back towards Billy, eyes big and bright.

The only light on was the little green glass desk lamp, which made everything seem dark and surreal, because Steve didn’t flick on the overhead light switch. They were surrounded by walls of books in the little study room, closed in on all sides by worn spines of dictionaries and shit. He was already getting hard in his jeans like some kind of Pavlov dog just being in here, and Billy looked so good, and Steve could smell him from there – he smelled like that good cologne, musky and rich, like nicotine and smoke, and like pheromones already (even though they hadn’t even started doing anything yet.) 

“I’m really behind on my Biology homework,” Steve wiggled his eyebrows a little bit on the word ‘biology,’ like a little nerd. 

He went to Billy at the door, getting his hands on that leather jacket, like butter under his fingertips. Chin canting down so that he could get a better look at him, voice low and slightly hoarse. “You wanna help me try ‘n pass?” 

***

Billy tilted his head and nodded, reaching out with both hands. One slid down the front of that button up, pausing at the top button of Steve’s jeans, the other moving up one of Steve’s forearms, eyes tracking the movement. It felt as good as he’d imagined it would, as good as he’d been picturing all day. The wiggle of Steve’s eyebrows gave him that stupid bashful feeling again, as corny as it was. 

“C’mon, kiss me,” he said, growing impatient under Steve’s touch, nowhere near where he wanted it, just this little tease of Steve’s fingers on his jacket. “Pretty please?”

***

Shivering at where Billy’s fingers traced over his arm, Steve complied easily – he wrapped up one of his hands into that worn jacket lapel, and lifted the other to nock it beneath Billy’s chin, lifting it up just enough that Steve could press a desperate, wanting kiss against his mouth. With the fist in Billy’s jacket he pressed him up against the door, slotting his hip into the space between his legs with a firm grind of his thigh. Meanwhile, his tongue slid out to try and coax Billy’s open – running the tip along the seam of his lips, begging entry. 

Steve could feel the bulge of his cock through the impossibly tight denim, pressed against his thigh and he let out a soft, relieved sigh through his nose at the contact - maybe more of a whimper. 

***

Billy parted his lips easily, swallowing down Steve’s sound with a quiet one of his own, breath hitching at the friction. This made it feel real again, not like the costume he’d made himself slip into the last time they’d tried this. The way Steve made him, sweet and soft and more than willing, that couldn’t be faked. Not even close. 

“Missed you yesterday, missed you today,” he whispered, moving in to continue the kiss, letting Steve’s tongue in the second it asked for permission. It pulled another sound from him, one that turned into a gasp, his fingers dipping into the front of Steve’s jeans and closing in on what he’d been looking for. 

He rolled his hips against the leg in between his own, humping it shamelessly, as hard as he could pressed up against the door. He didn’t have any intentions of moving from it until Steve decided he wanted them to, pleased as fucking punch to get pinned under Steve Harrington, get those big hands all over him. The thought pulled something out, something honest, as desperate as the kiss Steve was giving him and it had him pulling his head back. 

“I was jealous,” he breathed, looking up at Steve with sleepy eyes and spit slicked lips, a little swollen from kissing already. “I’m jealous.”

***

Steve’s tongue dipped into Billy’s mouth like he’d been dying in the desert, and that dark, wet mouth an oasis. He licked against Billy’s tongue, twisting around it until they were tangled together like some kind of embrace, slick with saliva. 

He’d liked having the time to simply relax with Billy at the house, and it had been good not doing anything – especially because he felt like Billy needed some time to emotionally recover from everything until he was in a good headspace to be doing anything physical. He didn’t want him to get that frantic, frenzied, panicked look he’d had the other day. But he didn’t find any traces of it now, so he proceeded like normal, hungry and loving and smiling into his kisses. 

“Missed you too,” Steve panted into Billy’s mouth, arousal prickling over his skin. Matching Billy’s whisper. “Missed you so much.” 

He kissed Billy more, licking the sounds from those lips, breathing them in, holding them in his lungs like air. Something hungering zinged up Steve’s spine as Billy started humping against his leg, with forceful, sure swings of his hips that were driving Steve wild – it was like he’d had this craving, or this scratch, that he couldn’t fill or reach, and he was finally getting a taste. 

Steve gasped at the loss of Billy’s lips when he pulled back, his hips mindlessly working in unison with Billy’s, rolling sweeps of their hips as Steve rocked his thigh into Billy’s cock, and simultaneously rutting up into Billy’s palm. He’d jumped a little when Billy’d gotten his hands in his pants, up on his toes with need. His palm was hot and dry around him, and the pressure was just enough, but also, not nearly enough. 

Steve licked out at Billy’s lower lip as he talked, whiskey dark eyes at half mast as Billy looked up at him, the blue of them drowsy with arousal. 

“Shit, don’t be. You don’t need to be,” Steve gulped down air given the opportunity, chest rising and falling fast now. He was mildly shocked at Billy being honest about it - and in return, he wanted to be honest, too. “She – I don’t want anyone but you. She…fucked him, before we broke up. I wouldn’t…” Steve shook his head, brown locks tumbling over his forehead. “I never want to be with her again. She never wanted me in the first place. And I…I don’t want anyone but you.” He repeated himself, still whispering, voice hoarse with desire. “Only want you.”

***

Billy searched over Steve’s face while he spoke, a huge wave of relief crashing over him. He waited a few seconds, not even a handful before he got his hand in Steve’s hair and pulled him back in. The kiss was desperate, somehow even more desperate than before, had him gasping high and needy into it, thinking a million things at once. 

I want you too, I only want you. I’ll make you happy. I can make you happy. Thank fuck, thank fuck thank fuck thank fuck. 

He pulled his hand out of Steve’s jeans and used both sets of fingers to get the button undone, carefully pulling the zipper away and down, trying to push them off Steve’s hips. Impatience won out so he fished his wallet out of his jacket and pushed it into Steve’s chest, lube tucked inside it. The kiss never wavered, got more intense once he wasn’t distracted, hand returning to Steve’s hair, cherishing the dark strands between his fingers. 

***

Steve pulled them both away from the door, which was easier said than done with his jeans around his hips. He got them up against the rear bookshelf instead, which was farther away from the door – and gently pressed Billy up against the shelves, lined with the heavy spines of an Encyclopedia collection. He fished insider of Billy’s wallet blindly, still working their mouths together, moaning softly and breathing through his nose – hadn’t broken the kiss once, even when he was moving them – until he found the tiny packet of lube. His boy was always prepared. 

He tucked the wallet back in its appropriate pocket, and used both hands to mirror Billy from before. Unbuttoning his Levis, but Jesus he thought these were actually tighter than the last pair, if that was actually possible – how the hell were they supposed to come off? And Steve wanted them off. Or at least, down. At his ankles would be best. He worked Billy’s jeans down farther on his hips, letting his cock free – which would have to do for now. Steve tore open the lube packet, and slicked it over his palm, and long, slender fingers, before he made a fist around Billy’s cock, pumping over it a few times to get warmed up. Thumbing at the head, and twisting his wrist.

The other hand braced against the books beside Billy’s head, steadying them. Lost in the intensity of the kiss, the way Billy’s tongue slid against his, and the pressure of the hand on his dick, which he stuttered up into. Tipping his head a little at the pull of Billy’s fingers in his hair, the tug at his scalp, like reigns that could get Billy to make Steve do anything.

***

“Jesus, I’m-fuck I’m fucking crazy about you, you know that?” Billy whispered, stuttering at a particularly good flick of Steve’s wrist. He wanted to keep kissing Steve but he wanted a look at him too, settled for the latter and watched his face change depending on how fast he stroked him. “Can—Will you fuck me in here? Now?”

He figured it was going to happen but he had to make sure, needed to know he was finally going to have it. His need for an answer bled into his hands, fingers curling in Steve’s hair and tugging, his pace on Steve’s cock picking up. Getting through this without being too loud was already challenging, little half groans nearly escaping his mouth. 

***

“Fuck, me too,” Steve half laughed against Billy’s lips, as the other boy pulled back far enough that Steve could get a better look at him – both of them breathing hard as they jacked each other off. Steve’s mouth was half hanging open, pupils blown so wide that in the darkness, they looked pitch black, and his cheeks were stained dark burgundy in the dim light.

“Mmh, I haven’t – “ Steve’s hips gave a broken jerk when a soft, choked sound escaped his mouth as Billy stroked him. “I haven’t, f-felt – like this.” 

It was true. He hadn’t. Sure, he’d been with a lot of girls, but they’d all been fun for a couple of days, a night at most, a romp in the sack or whatever. Nancy had changed all of that – but even that had felt different than this. Getting her into bed that first time had been like pulling teeth, and even after that, they hadn’t done it THAT much. Like maybe she’d always felt kind of guilty about them fucking while Barb was getting murdered outside the window, and well, apparently Nancy was ALWAYS thinking about Barb and low key blaming them (steve) for getting Barb killed by luring Nancy away with his dick. Things had just never set quite right, and Steve couldn’t explain it. 

This was…Jesus fuck, Steve didn’t know what this was – it was like all he could think about was Billy, he was under his skin. 

Unlike with Nancy, who’d always acted like it was more of a pain or some duty she had to perform to have to be with Steve when he wanted to show affection or be with her – Billy seemed to want him just as much as Steve wanted him. 

It was like a desperation to be with him that Steve had never experienced before, and Billy’s hands on his skin, his touch like burning, which Steve was so hungry for, it – nobody actually wanted Steve that much, nobody – usually Steve was more so just a pain for people, which was why it was almost, almost hilarious that Billy was JEALOUS of Nancy, like…Steve clenched his eyes shut and tried to stop his torrent of thoughts, just trying to focus on Billy’s hand on him, of the cloying scent of the cologne in his nose, on how fucking good Billy’s cock felt in his hand, the way it pulsed with want.

Steve pulled Billy off faster, nodding as Billy was letting little groans out – sounds that were sure to get them caught. Steve leaned forward to press a kiss to Billy’s mouth, whispering, 

“Shhh baby, shh – god yeah, wanna fuck you, but gotta keep quiet.”

He shoved off Billy’s jacket, then knelt down to help pull Billy’s jeans the rest of the way down, kissing along his thigh as he went. He got the boots off, and the jeans followed with only a bit of a struggle, really. 

Then he was guiding Billy towards the table – carefully leaning him back against it, mouthing against his throat, licking a long hot stripe from the collar of his tank to his jawline. Then he tipped him back over the table eagerly, pushing a stack of papers and a calculator to the side so that Billy was spread out by the green glass desk lamp – lit up emerald with the glow. Steve’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. 

He slid his fingers up along Billy’s stomach to catch at the hem of his tank top - which he kept pushing up and up over his chest, until it was rolled up enough to push towards Billy’s mouth - something to bite down on, to muffle sound. As he did it, Steve licked up along that sculpted stomach, from navel to breastbone, until he could suck a nipple into his mouth, hard.

***

Billy’s mouth closed around his shirt just in time for him to moan, legs falling apart obscenely at something small like Steve’s mouth on his chest. But Steve said he hadn’t felt like this, and this must’ve been just like Billy’s this, that boneless feeling he got everytime Steve touched him. Even the thought of how Steve had sounded, those short shhh sounds was enough to make his dick jump. 

He reached out for Steve even though he was pretty close already, fingers clawing at his arms until they wound around his back, legs trying to wrap around his waist and pull him in. He couldn’t talk like this but even that was hot, some fonder memories of before Steve, a hand clapped over his mouth because he’d never once in his life been quiet. This, this was good too. 

***

Steve stayed close to Billy, needing, adoring, the way his arms twined around his shoulders like he was the one keeping Billy tied to the earth. Even his legs were going around his waist, which Steve liked just as much – edging his hand down toward Billy’s hole, which was still lube slick. He knew they were limited on time – just until the lunch bell rang, and fourth period would start. 

He worked in the first finger until he was up to his knuckle, easing it past the rim with a sudden release of muscle. Steve was so close to Billy, he could feel, hear his breathy moans against the muffle of cotton, the way they vibrated in his lungs - and the sight of Billy with his shirt tugged up, exposing his chest and biting down, it made Steve’s dick leak pre-come, even though it wasn’t being touched anymore. 

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Steve whispered up at him, working his finger in and out now at a steadily increasing pace. It wasn’t long until he could add two.

***

Billy hooked his hands over the tops of Steve’s shoulders and held on, kept them close enough that if he closed his eyes he could almost pretend they were fucking already. Almost, because Steve was a hell of a lot bigger than two fingers, but Steve was moving above him like he was thinking the same thing. It wasn’t anywhere near enough, not with the clock ticking. 

He dug his heels into the small of Steve’s back as a hint but that wasn’t quite it either. One hand slid off Steve’s shoulder to find the hand inside of him, slipping Steve’s fingers out of him with a soft, mournful whine. It didn’t last because he was urging Steve’s lube slick hand to his cock, trying to get him to lube himself up with no way to say it. The look on his face probably did the work for him, borderline fucking miserable. 

***

Steve took the hint – all of them – because they were rushed on time, and he knew that, but he hadn't wanted to hurt him, either. Steve did lube himself up, slicking over his own cock, only able to think that his own hand was nothing compared to burying himself in the heat of Billy’s ass, and it was all he wanted. Steve adjusted himself to brace one hand against the table to get a better position and balance, hair flopping into his eyes, then used the other hand – that had been working Billy open, to guide himself to the right spot. 

He sank in pretty easily, until the entire head was in, really working not to rut forward – but as he worked himself deeper, easing as Billy’s muscles contracted and then covering more ground – he was faster than he usually was, until he was completely sheathed, eyes rolling up into the back of his head with the sensation, letting out little quiet huffs of breath like he was suffocating. 

***

Billy was thankful, more than fucking thankful for the shirt in his mouth. The second Steve bottomed out inside of him he was whining on some kind of repeat, hands scrambling over Steve’s back before he was hanging on by the tops of his shoulders again. There wasn’t any time to waste so he rolled his hips, trying to coax Steve into a quick, punishing rhythm. 

It was stupid, it just had to be stupid, but everything about it was flooding him with arousal, the kind that didn’t even make him eager to touch himself. He knew he was going to come like that, on nothing but his senses, eventually. The sound of Steve’s breathing and the quiet thus of their bodies, his whines muffled behind his own clothing, the smell of Steve’s cologne. The way Steve’s face contorted in pleasure, like he was the greatest thing Steve had ever felt. 

***

Steve’s dick jumped inside of Billy at the sensation of those blunt nails scrabbling at his back, drawing desperate lines that matched the mood – Steve quickly rolled his hips forward to meet Billy’s, before he was pulling out and shallowly thrusting back in – swallowing sounds and trying to breathe without it coming out as a moan. He followed the rhythm that Billy was urging him into, setting a rushed pace that was chasing after the seconds going by on his wristwatch. He kept that one hand flat on the desk, while the other one anchored at Billy’s thigh, where it was curved up around Steve’s back. 

He used it as leverage to pull Billy back against him with each mildly frenzied thrust, slapping their skin together with each meeting of their bodies. His heart thundered in his ears as he breathed like he was in a marathon, tiny grunts sometimes slipping through. The desk groaned beneath them as Steve picked up the pace even more, hauling him down over his cock. Hungering to meet Billy’s expectations, and to fulfill both of their pleasures. 

***

Billy was grateful for the shirt in his mouth for a totally different reason when Steve started grunting, when their skin started smacking together. Come striped across his stomach with hardly any warning, just that death grip of arousal twisting suddenly, his whole body seizing up and twitching. He was distantly worried about ripping Steve’s nice yellow shirt because he was clinging to it so hard, moved one hand to touch the arm Steve was using to brace himself. 

The fabric slipped down below his chin, which was fine because all he had left in him were these tiny fucked out sounds, nearly drowned out by the sound of Steve grunting and panting. That’s how fucking crazy I am about you, he thought, head lolling back onto the desk with a thud, fingers moving almost soothingly over Steve’s forearm, spurring him on. 

***

Steve almost went still in shock as Billy started to come – he hadn’t actually grabbed his cock yet, which, shit, probably bad form he should have done that – he needed to get better at this – but he at least he’d been managing to get to the spot that Billy liked. He also pulled Billy off through the orgasm, continuing to rock into him. 

It left his hand sticky with come, with Billy starting to go soft in his hand as he continued to ride his own pleasure out. Those callused fingers brushing over his arm helped, telling him it was okay, and really Steve only needed a few more good thrusts to get to that climax himself. His eyes screwed shut against it, mouth dropping open as electricity rushed over his skin like a tide. His body went rigid as he pressed all the way into Billy, then suddenly pulled out, breathing hard, eyes still closed, as he came on the table. A last minute realization he didn’t want to leave Billy full of come for the rest of the day. Because they were still at school. So instead, he painted the lacquered desk, shaking and trying to remember to breathe. 

The bell rang and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin, still balls deep, and he almost fell, latching onto the sturdy thigh at his side. Breathing hard, heart thundering for a different reason, Steve stared down at the blonde beneath him with huge, startled doe eyes. Not exactly post orgasm bliss. 

“H-Holy shit,” Steve gasped. 

***

Billy couldn’t help it, had done the absolute best he could to stay quiet the whole time. Sure, he’d had help from the shirt but still, usually he was a fucking wailer. But he’d been quiet during their short romp, kept thinking of Steve shushing him—

Now he was cackling, the kind of laughter that hurt his stomach, looking at Steve’s face after the absolute perfect timing of the school bell. It was still mostly quiet but he couldn’t stop, muscles finally relaxing, thighs shaking and dangling over the desk. He felt for a handkerchief in the inside of his jacket—never unprepared, not for nearly anything. He flapped it at Steve for him to use, still unable to catch his breath. 

***

Steve tried scowling at him, but it ended up morphing into a smile too – because he couldn’t ever scowl with Billy laughing like that. The kind that made you have to hold your stomach, because it hurt. He’d never be upset about that, even if it was sort of at Steve’s expense. He snatched the handkerchief and wiped up the mess he made, tucking it back into Billy’s pocket and patting it like a present. 

“There you go, baby.” 

He laughed himself and reached down to tug Billy up into his arms, wrapping him up tight in a hug and burying his face in his neck. Steve’s hips were still tucked into the V of his legs, up against the edge of the desk. 

He huffed in the spicy smell of him, cologne and sex, still able to feel his heartbeat in every pulse point. Steve grinned into the juncture there, hiding his face as he nosed at Billy’s golden skin. 

“So funny, ha ha. Laugh it up.” 

***

Billy wasn’t wasted, but he was definitely tipsy. The drive to Steve’s house would’ve been a little risky with that alone, but of course that wasn’t it; he’d driven there one-handed, his left arm hanging uselessly and at an angle that made Billy gag just to look at. He’d thought it would be a good idea to pound some of the whiskey he stashed in his trunk before he left, knew fixing this shit would be ten times harder if his muscles weren’t relaxed. He was regretting it a little now, slamming on the breaks in Steve’s driveway and killing the engine. 

He threw himself out of the car, the journey to the front door looking like about a thousand miles. He knew he should be holding his arm with his other hand, that it made it feel better, but the animal part of his brain didn’t want to touch it. Plus, he didn’t want to be making any worse sounds than he was now; he could hear himself breathing, sounded like a dog getting its foot stepped on as he leaned his body over to ring the doorbell as many times as he could. 

“Answer the fucking door, please answer the fucking door.” He said to himself, knew it was pretty fucking late and Steve might be asleep, hoped the sound broke through enough for him to get there. 

***

Steve was watching a movie on the couch, legs drawn up under a quilt as he curled up and watched the set. He was sort of drowsy, but not enough to actually sleep – he didn’t sleep well, mostly when Billy wasn’t there, and he was alone. And at first he thought it was a sound on the movie, but it was just Indiana Jones. Steve shifted on the couch and listened.

He grabbed the clicker and turned the set off, leaving the living room in silence – he was more attuned to this kind of shit than he used to be, he guessed. Like he was always waiting for something to be off or wrong in the back of his head, like the whole town was gonna sink into the tunnels and he had to be ready. Steve shifted on the cushion, leaning forward and strained his ears. It sounded like a dog, maybe, or an animal. But not in a demo-dog kind of way, but maybe if an animal was hurt. Or in heat, but. Steve’s brow dipped in concern as he got up off the couch and then nearly had a heart attack when the bell rang. 

What the hell? It was like, like one AM and hurt dogs didn’t ring doorbells. Steve padded to the front door of the well-lit house in nothing but striped tube socks and a pair of boxers. He looked through the peephole and his stomach fucking dropped. It wasn’t a dog. It was fucking BILLY.

He flipped the deadbolts and swung the door open, heart in his throat as he stared at Billy, trying to assess what was wrong, and – “What – the -?“ Steve started, then reached out to bundle Billy gingerly up in his arms and help him inside, kicking the door closed behind them, ignoring the chill. He was careful not to touch the arm that was hanging at the entirely wrong angle. 

“What the fuck happened? Billy? What – your arm - ” 

***

“Can’t—help, help set it,” Billy said through his teeth, kind of surprised he was managing this handful of words, that he was standing upright still. “Left handed—I’m—can’t set it.”

He glanced at the arm in question and did gag this time, looking away quickly and wheezing in pain. Usually he could sift through an injury and assess it, wave a broken wrist off while he figured out how to fix it or get to the drug store, set an alarm on his watch to keep him from falling asleep with a concussion. This was maybe the worst pain he’d ever felt, and he’d even felt it before. It had happened when he was a kid by accident, skateboarding and falling very, very wrong. This—had happened intentionally, had a lot of drunk purpose and muscle behind it. 

The floor was closer now and he realized he was sitting, right there in the foyer, still making those fucking noises. His boots were squeaking on the floor because he couldn’t stop moving, panic shooting through every single nerve ending, the pain like a cloud of fog he couldn’t see through. 

***

At first, Steve was about to panic – he was really close, actually – his arm was fucking hanging like that, and Billy was making those awful, wounded animal noises. This cross behind a whimper and a cry and Steve could feel it all the way in his guts each time he did it. He sank to the floor with Billy as he seemed to lose the ability to stand, because he still had his arms around him and he wasn’t going anywhere.

But he bypassed panic really quickly – and jumped straight to that crystal clear, calm seas part of his mind that was assessing the situation and figuring out what the hell they needed to do. It was easier for him to get to that part in his brain, that calm, collected part that could fucking take control of a situation and come out on the other side when other people were the ones panicking – and Billy was panicking now. 

Steve came around in front of him, keeping a hand on his right arm so the they didn’t lose contact. As Billy started gagging at the vision if his arm, Steve was shaking his head, soothing a hand over Billy’s curls over and over again.

“Baby. Baby. It’s okay, alright? You’re gonna be alright. Just take a deep breath. Breathe. In and out, okay? Sweetheart, you need to let me take you to a hospital. You need a doctor. I don’t - I don’t know how to put your arm back, and I don’t want to hurt you worse.” Steve said, keeping his voice nice and even – not letting any panic creep through. His brain felt steady and calm and sure. Billy would be fine. Steve would make sure of it. 

***

Billy went still at the word hospital, completely frozen in place. Except he was still in agony and all of the adrenaline was still ripping through him so he was fucking vibrating instead, his eyes wide with terror. That fear shot past the pain so quick it made his head spin, made him think he was saying no but all that was coming out were the first part, little ‘n’ sounds like he was fucking warming his voice up. 

Even those little sounds went away after a minute, just more of that blank fear, worse than he’d ever felt it before. Hospital, no hospitals. It was a rule, it was a really big rule and Neil would kill him. He’d fucking kill him if he started a paper trail, do a million times worse than just this. 

***

“Hey? Hey? Billy? Billy.” Steve was asking, but Billy seemed to be completely petrified, aside from the almost violent trembling. He was way more in the realm of terror now, not just panic, and Steve couldn’t understand it – he was saying ‘nnnn’ like maybe trying to say no? Just couldn’t quite get it out. “What are you trying to – no? No hospital? C’mon – c’mon, let me get you up.” 

Steve got himself into a crouch and got his arms under Billy from the right side, really fucking careful not to touch or jostle his left arm and used his legs to lift his weight to a standing position. He carried Billy bridal pose into the living room to get him laying on the couch, tilted so that his left arm wasn’t touching the cushions. Steve’d played sports for a long time. He’d seen dislocations. He knew they needed ice. 

***

“Hospital-no hospital,” Billy finally got out, his right hand shooting forward to grip Steve’s arm, his grip a little too tight. “Can’t go there, can’t—paper trail, please.”

His arm felt terrible hanging like it was, like every second was one closer to it just popping right off. He knew logically that wasn’t going to happen but the pain convinced him, reminded him that having it on his chest would be better. So he let go of Steve’s arm to grab the left, taking in gulping, burning breaths as he placed it over his chest. The movement shot pain all the way down his side, fucking everywhere, like water so cold that it burnt as he yelped. 

***

Steve bit his lip. Okay. Okay no hospitals. Well that was just perfect, what the hell did Billy want him to do? He wasn’t a fucking doctor he could mess it up! Things like nerve damage and internal bleeding came to mind. Steve cringed when Billy yelped and went to the closet next to the guest bathroom – the one with the linens. Saying ‘I’ll be right back, okay? Be right back.’

He got out a few pillowcases and knotted them together, before grabbing a big thing of frozen corn out of the freezer in the kitchen. When he got back, it was easier to get the knotted pillow cases around Billy with his arm already against his chest – he tightened the slip knot behind his back until it was sturdy enough to keep Billy’s arm in place, his fingers dancing carefully enough that he didn’t actually touch anything sensitive. 

“Now, this is gonna hurt, okay? Just take a deep breath.” Steve lay the bag of corn over Billy’s left shoulder, with a washcloth he’d grabbed from the linen closet in between the cold and Billy’s shirt. He was making shushing noises as he did it, as the noises Billy was making made him want to cry. 

“Okay. Okay no hospital.” Steve said, grabbing at his own hair with a fist and pulling, glancing around like there was an answer written on the walls. He couldn’t let the panic sneak up. Okay, okay, what should he do, what should he do, he - Hop. Hopper. He should call Hop. Hop could do anything. “I need to make a call.”

***

Billy watched Steve move into the kitchen and settled for staring at the ceiling, feet kicking mindlessly at the couch. He realized his boots were still on and felt terrible, the guilt eating him up when he realized the mess he might be making. The pain was making his vision swim and he couldn’t tell when he looked down, just tried to get his boots off without moving to no avail. He could hear Steve talking and then silence, the sound of pacing and Steve’s voice closer, still shushing him sweet and low, the only indicator he was still making noises. 

A knock on the door threw him into absolute silence, irrationally picturing Neil on the other side of it. He squeezed his eyes shut and stayed quiet, mouth closed tightly as sounds threatened to sneak past his lips. It was hard to tell if he was crying or sweating, could only gather his face felt a little damp but he’d play it off as well as possible if Neil was coming, if Neil found him. 

***

Steve was soothing his hands over Billy’s face, thumbs stroking over rough cheeks – at one point, he’d taken his boots off and tucked the quilt that he’d been using earlier around him. Trying to ease the sounds he was making, and ensuring the pack of corn didn’t slide off. Then the doorbell rang, thank fucking god. Steve looked up sharply as Billy lapsed into absolute silence, doing that trembling thing he’d done earlier when Steve had mentioned the hospital. 

“Shh, shh – it’s okay baby, it’s someone here to help. He’s gonna help you, okay? Just hang tight.” Steve leaned forward and pressed a kiss into Billy’s forehead like a reassurance, then went to answer the door. He’d thrown on a hoodie he had hanging from the coat rack, then swung the door open, 

Hopper stood there on the stoop smoking a cigarette, looking particularly grumpy (which wasn’t exactly rare for him,) probably at being woken up at 1:30 in the morning. 

“Well? He still here?” Hop asked.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for coming – uh – “ Steve stood back to let the Chief in. “C’mon in. Sorry it’s late, but – yeah, just thanks.” 

Hop tromped in in his big work boots, snuffing out the cigarette on the porch before he came in. He kept his bulky jacket on, and the hat.

“What the hell happened to him?” 

“Uh.” Steve said.

***

A cop. The one all the kids were inexplicably friends with. Hop, that’s what Steve said, what Max called him. Billy just knew he was the chief, that it was the guy who’d stopped him on some borderline traffic violations. He couldn’t figure out why this was the person Steve had decided to call, except he looked like the kind of guy who could reset an arm. Had an ex-military vibe to him, the kind Neil would probably eat up. The kind Neil would sidle right up to. 

“Arm’s—outta socket and I’m—left handed,” he said tightly, holding back all of the noises he’d been making, definitely sweating from the effort now. 

***

Hop sighed, long and deep, and only then – standing in Steve’s living room and getting a good look at Billy – did he shrug off his heavy jacket, which he tossed over the armchair, and took off his wide brimmed hat to place on top of it. Slicking back his hair with one palm, and studying Billy with a quick, calculating gaze like he was adding up an equation. 

“Yeah, yeah I see that, kid.” He glanced at Steve. “You put it in the sling, or that from before?” 

“I did it. I’ve seen it happen before, on the team, and –“

“Good, good.” Hop slapped Steve on the back, almost hard enough to make him stumble. 

Hopper took a few steps towards Billy, approaching him like you’d walk slowly towards an injured, cornered animal – because really that’s a lot what Billy looked like, right then. 

“I’m gonna help you set it, alright?” He said, hands held out, palms outwards – the international sign for means no harm. He was using this real quiet voice that Steve’d only heard him use a couple times, and it was usually with Eleven or Will. 

***

Billy’s eyes were glued to Hopper’s hands, big and menacing and getting closer. He glanced at Steve for a split second but Steve didn’t look worried about the guy at all, and that at least gave him a sliver of reassurance. The hands were out of his sight when Hopper got right up next to him and he thought he might end up chewing his own fucking teeth from clenching his jaw so hard, his arm slowly moved out of the sling Steve had made. 

He heard try and relax and he knew, he knew you couldn’t reset a shoulder unless you did. The muscles locked up too much, wouldn’t move. It made everything move a lot slower than it should’ve, Hopper’s hands guiding his bad arm up above his head. The pain was completely blinding, just a blanket of white in his vision while he tried not to flail. He knew what the guy was doing and he knew it was right but the second his bad arm was moving—like it was reaching for his other shoulder—he couldn’t keep the noises at bay. He screamed for a good few seconds and then the pain—wasn’t gone, but not half as agonizing. 

***

Steve wanted to – he didn’t know – go over there and maybe hold Billy’s other hand or something because he looked so freaking terrified, but, he also didn’t want to get in the way. He just needed to give Hopper the space to do what he needed to do. And he trusted the man. He’d fix it. Steve knew that. So Steve stood by just a little ways behind Hopper, arms folded tightly over his chest, gripping his own upper arms as his gaze flickered over Billy, chewing on his lower lip. 

When he screamed, Steve’s eyes flinched shut, shoulders hunching, fingers tightening over his arms in a death grip. 

Hopper popped the joint back into place and then loosened his grip on Billy’s arm – letting it ease back, before he looped the makeshift sling back over the arm, tightening the slip knot just enough to keep Billy’s arm firmly tucked against his chest, like an injured wing. He also put the ice pack back over Billy’s shoulder for good measure.

“Harrington – grab some ibprofen, would ya?” Hopper sighed and sat back on his heels next to the sofa. 

“Yeah I’ll grab some,” Steve nodded and hurried up the stairs to go grab some out of the medicine cabinet.

Hopper braced an arm against one knee, the other scraping over his face as he observed Billy, giving him a good, long look.

“You feel like telling me how this happened?” 

***

Billy looked right back at Hopper, trying to read his expression, find the holes in it. Neil was always good buddies with cops. Always invited them to dinner to see what a troublemaker his son was, that he was just trying to keep his family together, that he couldn’t imagine where the kid got such a disrespectful attitude. This was a man Neil would invite to dinner, a man Neil would happily share a beer with. 

“Got drunk a few hours ago, slipped on the ice,” he said dutifully, knew the smell of whiskey was still on him enough to keep it plausible. “Not used to the cold, wasn’t thinking.”

***

Hopper knew the smell of whiskey, and he knew the smell of lies. And that was a lie if he ever heard one. Steve was coming back down the stairs two at a time, rattling a bottle of ibuprofen and balancing a glass of water from the bathroom sink. 

“Fell on the ice, huh?” Hop didn’t sound convinced. He smiled a little, a pained twitch of his mouth, and rubbed his forehead. “Kid, we haven’t had ice on the ground in a week.” 

“What ice?” Steve asked, frowning. 

“Says he slipped on ice?” 

Steve snorted as a reply, voice falling flat. “Right. Ice.” 

Hopper’s eyebrows raised at Steve, then those bright eyes focused back in on Billy. 

“You sure that’s how you remember it?” 

“You can tell him.” Steve said, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice as he handed the medicine over to the Chief. 

Hopper tapped two pills out into his hand and extended them like an offering with the glass of water. “You take two of these, just two.” 

***

Billy grabbed the pills and threw them into his mouth, drained the glass and handed it back with a short grit of his teeth at the twist of his body. He looked between the two of them and almost had a childish thought, one of sprinting right out through the back of the house, pillowcase sling and all. 

“That’s exactly how I remember it, sir. Must’ve been drunk and just tripped over myself then,” he said, waiting for the look that the school counselor always got, that suspicion turning into absolute disappointment. The kind he saw all the fucking time. 

He wanted to tell Steve that he was sorry, that Steve didn’t understand how complicated all of this was for him. Even when Neil fucked up—even though it had never been this bad, planted a frisson of fear in him—Billy had to clean up after. He couldn’t leave Susan with nothing, Max without a house to live in. He looked at Steve instead and tried to give a tight lipped little smile, probably downplayed by all the blood having left his face, the sweat still on his brow. 

***

Steve’s mouth pursed tight in frustration as Billy gave him that little stressed smile, and he looked away, arms still crossed tight over his chest. 

Hopper stood up, sighing like he was wondering why the hell he was here and having to deal with this shit at 2 am or whatever, but the look he gave Billy wasn’t anything – it wasn’t suspicious and it wasn’t disappointed. It was a helluva poker face. Wished he still had his smoke, but it was what it was.

“I’ve set a lot of arms in my time. Shoulders pop out like it’s nothin’ sometimes. And I’ll tell you, there’s two kinds. There’s the kind where you hit hard – where you fall the wrong way.” The man made a gesture with his hand towards his own shoulder like of a blunt impact. “Then there’s the second kind, and that’s where somebody actually pulls it hard enough that that shit comes out on its own.” This time he made a tugging gesture in midair, for emphasis.

He gave a little shrug, and went back towards the armchair with the plastic wrap on it, to start gathering up his coat, back turned to them. “I don’t suggest lying. You’re on my radar, kid.” He popped the hat back on top of his head, all of his gestures casual. Laid back. He only glanced back at Billy once to say. “You come talk to me, hear me?” 

He slapped Steve on the back again. “You did good. Calling me. You watch him, and call me again if anything changes. If his hand starts to turn blue, you call me.” 

Then he left. Just like that. He had a few things to look into. 

***

Billy watched Hopper leave and kept his eyes on the red front door for a few moments, mostly so he wouldn’t have to look at Steve. Not that Steve was looking at him, probably too upset with him. He eased himself to a sitting position, the quilt following him and pooling around his waist as he sat back against the couch, breathing heavily through his nose until he got used to the ache of sitting upright. 

“Sorry,” he said softly, swallowing hard and closing his mouth to try and keep his chin from wobbling. 

I don’t suggest lying. He had to lie to somebody if the other one was going to be happy, it’s just how it worked. Lie to Neil about keeping quiet, make the cop and Steve happy. Lie to the cop and Steve, save himself from Neil. Except Neil had ripped his arm out of socket this time and he’d never, ever done that before. 

“I’m sorry.”

***

Steve sat down heavily on the couch beside Billy, burying his face in his hands and trying to breathe. All of the panic that he’d been choking down was bubbling up to the surface now, like an active geyser, and he couldn’t stop it.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” Steve said into his hands, eyes screwed closed, blocking everything out. “Just…you don’t need to be sorry. It’s just – shit, Billy! Shit you, you scared me – your arm – “

Steve breathed out sharply through his nose, raising his head to stare sharply at Billy, eyes overly bright.

“Is it true? Did he seriously just pull your arm hard enough to just – fucking – pop it out? What the fuck?” He had to look away from Billy then, with the shitty sling Steve’d concocted , wild gaze wheeling around the living room, unable to settle on anything. “That was perfect...the perfect timing, to tell him. You should’ve told him.”

***

“Can’t tell him, Steve, it’s not gonna do anyone any good,” Billy said, calm in a way that only really meant exhausted. “I tell him and a couple things happen. He rats me out to Neil, Neil runs me over with his fucking truck. Or hey, we’ll play your dream out. Neil gets in trouble somehow—even though I can guarantee you from fucking experience he won’t. Susan can’t afford the house anymore without Neil’s army pension. Max loses all her friends or worse, gets put in foster care if they deem Susan incompetent letting her live in that house with Neil. I get put in foster care because I’m not even eighteen. I ruin everything for everyone.”

He didn’t realize how much he’d said until he was done, that the calm had turned sad, that sour feeling from all the adrenaline finally gone settling in his gut. His breath hitched in pain as he shifted on the couch and he didn’t look at Steve because Steve wasn’t looking at him again. Because he’d fucked up, and no matter what he’d fuck up. 

“Being a smart mouth at dinner, got up without asking. Neil stopped me but he was a little sloshed and—Max didn’t see it happen, I twisted away.”

***

Steve blinked, blindly looking at the wall opposite them, this deep furrow over his forehead like a trench. He was shaking his head a little. He kept hearing Billy’s scream in his head as Hopper popped his joint back in place, and those little, sobbing primal cries he'd been making before that.

“No…no you don’t understand.” Steve said in a low voice. “You don’t know Chief Hopper. He would never nark on you to your dad, and if he was gonna do something, he’d figure it out to make it work. And honestly, Susan is a grown woman, she doesn’t have to have your dad to pay for the house, she could get a job. You’ll be getting a job soon, maybe, like you said. Nobody would be put into foster care, because I’m over eighteen, and my dad owns half of fucking Hawkins – it’s not like we don’t have the money, and you could stay here if worse comes to worse. But it wouldn’t get to that point, because whatever Hop does, he’d do it smart, and he’d fix it.” 

Steve rubbed at his arm and closed his eyes again, pale mouth creating a little sorrowful bow. It was another one of those times when Billy said it like it was so normal, like it was his own fault. Steve’d already talked to him about that before. “Doesn’t matter if he was sloshed, that’s not okay. It’s not your fault and it’s not okay.” 

***

“Okay,” Billy said, looking over at Steve finally. His eyes were closed and he looked sad, but Steve said it’s not your fault. “I’m gonna—I’ll think about it. Like, actually think about it. Alright?”

He looked down at his bad arm next, couldn’t even remember when Steve had made the sling. The pain was still there and more than present but his brain was a little clearer, got him thinking. Thinking about never having to go back to Neil again. About turning eighteen, seeing Max turn into someone who was nothing like him at all because she still had a chance. About not having to run to Steve when his arm got dislocated. 

“Can’t play basketball. It’s the end of the season and I can’t—I have to qu—I’m gonna have to quit.”

***

Steve’s eyes cracked open as he peered back at Billy from under his lashes, a deep, hollow melancholy having settled into his breast. Billy had silent tears running down his cheeks, hiccuping on some of his words like he hadn’t even registered he was crying. 

Steve edged closer to him on the sofa, avoiding his left arm. He reached a hand around his shoulders to clasp it against the other side of Billy’s head, and pulled him close, pressing a firm, fierce kiss against his temple. Chocolate brown eyes slid closed again, before he lowered his head to merely rest his forehead there. 

“You don’t have to quit. Coach’ll just bench you. And….and do. Think about it. Really. Because what the fuck could happen next? Something worse?” 

Steve kept his hand on the other side of Billy’s head, fingers digging into the curls there like he was afraid of him not being here anymore. Afraid of letting go.

Steve thought about when they were in the bathroom weeks ago, and he’d placed his fingers over the marks Neil had left, leaving him with this dark sense of foreboding. Hop had said it would have to be the person that was being hurt to speak up - if anyone else did, it didn’t count if the victim didn’t confirm it.

***

Billy shrugged with his good shoulder like he hadn’t thought about it, like he hadn’t been thinking about it lately. He was so close, so fucking close to getting out and being free. He was so close to college and the letters would come any day now and he’d been thinking about Neil—going too far. Irreversibly far, off on a fucking tear. He hadn’t verbalized it and he likely never would, didn’t want to make it real. 

“Parents come home in three days, huh?” he asked after a few minutes of quiet, just savoring the feeling of Steve’s fingers in his hair, so soothing that it finally drew a normal and relaxed breath out of him. “M’I still gonna get to see you?”

***

“Yeah it’s gonna be…a great time.” Steve sighed, nuzzling his nose against Billy’s cheek, still holding onto him like he was liable to drift away. “I can’t wait.” His voice was more than a little dry when he said it, and he couldn’t believe it was just a couple days. He knew what his dad wanted to come back to talk to him about, and he was dreading it with every fiber of his being. 

The last time he’d been here he’d gotten the letters from the universities Steve’d applied to, and he’d been pretty pissed. They’d been either early rejections or notifications that they had never received an application, because his dad had actually checked on that shit. So this was gonna be a really fun time of ‘what come’s next, Steven? What are the plans for your future?’ bullshit. 

“Yeah, please yeah. Wanna see you.” Steve huffed against Billy’s neck. “M’dad told my mom that I had a ‘new friend’ and she wants you to come for dinner some night. Dunno. She likes having family dinners when they’re here, to catch up.” 

***

Those three days passed fucking quick. Billy didn’t quit under Steve’s advice and sure enough got benched, coach invested in him enough to keep him captain, keep him at least making plays for the team. It fucking sucked to not play but he still had some power, something to distract him from Neil ruining his last season over dinner. Steve was another thing, as usual. A much better, more comfortable distraction, no bullshit, and that’s why he went out of his way. 

He only had two days to prepare for dinner once Steve’s mom told him a date, just two days to snoop. He was lucky Hawkins was so fucking small, the women of Hawkins so eager to chat to him, give him some information on Cynthia Harrington. His light blue shirt was buttoned up to the top and totally matched his eyes, his good arm caught up in a bouquet of foxglove while the other hung in an expertly stolen and clean sling. 

One deep breath later he was ringing the doorbell, wishing he had a free hand to smooth his curls down. Twenty minutes staring at himself in the mirror was probably good enough. 

***

Steve answered the door already looking bored and irritated and he was wearing a tie and he looked like a cat that was about to be given a bath. He ogled Billy’s shirt for a second because it was done up all the way to his throat, and it was like he was in the twilight zone as he stepped back from the door, blue as those eyes, and he looked fucking amazing. But his shirt was buttoned up. What dimension was this? 

“Hey,” Steve nodded at Billy as he stepped back. He glanced over his shoulder moodily like he knew his mom and dad were listening as he said, “Can I take your coat?” Like he might ask ‘can you shoot me now?’ Dinner hadn’t even started yet and he already felt like a sulky little bitch. 

It took Steve a full second to register that Billy was holding a bundle of flowers, and he stared even longer, nothing computing. 

***

Billy grinned in Steve’s view, a complete, absolute shit eating grin at Steve’s tie. It morphed into something charming and polite when Steve’s mother came into view, pretty and a little tall even barefoot, a sensible apron tied around her waist. He felt fond just looking at her and almost got caught up in it before he remembered Steve asking for his coat, nodding and letting him help Billy out of the one arm he had in it. 

“Hello, Mrs. Harrington. I’m Billy Hargrove, very nice to meet you,” he cooed, right on the cusp of flirtatious but staying appropriate especially considering who’s mother it was. “These are for you.”

“How did you know I love foxglove?” Cynthia said, a delighted look on her face as she took the bouquet and gave Billy a careful, short hug, eyes falling on his sling. “Oh-are you alright? Steven, he didn’t have to come if he was hurt.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Harrington, just a sports injury,” Billy said, leave it to beaver smile on his face as he toed his boots off, grinning more mischievously over his shoulder while he followed Steve’s mother into the dining room. “Wouldn’t miss a chance to taste your cooking, Karen Wheeler says you’re very adventurous.”

“Well, if you say so. She’s right you know, I’ve made us some tomato basil tortellini for dinner,” Cynthia said, leading Billy to a seat across from Steve’s father, who was heavily engaged in the newspaper in his hands. “It’s Steven’s favorite. Isn’t that right? Honey, our guest is here.”

***

Steve was caught somewhere in the middle between gonna throw up and mildly impressed as he followed after his mom and Billy, hanging the leather jacket up on the stand-alone coat rack. He was never going to let Billy live this foxglove thing down. 

Steve tugged at the collar of his white dress shirt and the burgundy, brown striped tie, following along in white Nike crew cut socks and pressed black slacks. Jesus, they were all dressed up like the Queen was coming to visit or something, not just Billy. Steve wanted to crawl under the kitchen table when Billy said the word ‘adventurous.’ He really wanted this night to be over and it had just started, even if he was sort of amused at the same time? And he really did love tomato basil tortellini.

So he just followed along quietly, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress slacks, listening, with his eyebrows raised up with that amusement and mild horror. He couldn’t decide if he was getting a kick out of this or not.

Steve settled down next to Billy, across from his mom, with his dad at the head of the table as always. 

“Dad, you remember Billy?” Steve asked, clearing his throat.

Grant Harrington lowered the newspaper he’d been perusing, mouth pursed as he glanced towards Billy – before it split into a large, dazzling, perfectly white toothed smile that won most people over. 

“Of course. How could I have forgotten.” He said, like it wasn’t something underhanded. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

***

Billy hated fathers, never really got on with any of the ones he’d met. It was like they could all smell it on him, the disappointment his own father had for him, decided to pick it back up when Neil was out of sight. His smile got a bit smaller but no less charming, taking the sting in stride and trying to focus on Steve’s mother instead. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Harrington,” he said pleasantly, leaning out of the way as Cynthia lowered small plates of salad in front of everyone’s seat. Eating with his right hand was really proving to be a bitch but maybe he’d been practicing all yesterday for this. Maybe. Probably not. “Put the metalhead earring away just for this.”

“We heard the car pull in, I bet you’re loads of trouble,” Cynthia said, clearly trying not to smile too big once her husband’s attention was finally called to the people around him. “That's just to start, pasta is nearly finished. Sports injury you said? Will that hamper any scholarships?”

“No, I—actually, I didn’t apply for any. I was going to, but I’m in so many AP classes I kind of—didn’t need to,” Billy said, trying to keep his posture straight despite the urge to sink into the floor. School and college were the last two fucking things on earth he wanted to talk about, charming Steve’s mother or not. “It’s bad timing but I just ended up being benched, still helping out.”

***

Steve wasn’t even mildly phased by his dad’s underhanded insults, but he felt his cheeks flush a little because it wasn’t being directed at Steve, it was being directed at Billy, and he didn’t fucking deserve it. Steve scowled down at his salad and mostly stayed quiet. He stabbed a tomato with his fork. Steve had made the salad to help his mom with dinner.

He glanced up a little in surprise at Billy’s comment about the scholarship though. Billy had apparently turned down being Valedictorian, why on earth would he have not applied for scholarships? Probably could have gotten a full ride.

“Billy’s Team Captain, mom. So he’s making the plays and everything even while he’s benched, and it’s going really well.” 

“They just hand out money to AP students, do they?” Steve’s dad asked, with a certain lilt to the words ‘AP students’ like he didn’t quite believe Billy fell into that category. “Maybe you could give Steven some pointers.”

***

“No, sir, they don’t. I have a few student loans and grants lined up, just going to work through them until they’re paid off,” Billy said, his voice just a little less pleasant, less light even if his face stayed the same. “When I get into Stanford I can work there too.”

It was about as close to cocky as he was going to get about it, if only to shove it in Steve’s dad’s face a little. He knew that a man like that wouldn’t be impressed, not ever, with someone like him. Trailer trash pretending to look nice. He wondered how much worse it was for Steve behind closed doors, if Steve’s mother was passive about it like so many mothers were. 

“Stanford! Lovely. Steven told me you were from California, San Francisco?” Cynthia said, trailing into the kitchen and back out, setting the pasta out in front of everyone. “Now, be careful. There’s quite a kick at the end of it.”

“Yes, ma’am, San Francisco,” Billy said, trying not to smile too much at the word kick before taking a bite. It was as mild as fucking oatmeal but he didn’t show it, just swallowed and hummed. “It’s very good, thank you for making dinner. I could sit down with you, Steve, run through apps. Kind of got it down to a science.”

***

“Hm.” Grant said in this sort of tone, as he started in on the pasta – his jaw muscles working way more than they probably should be. Grant Harrington had gone to Yale, and he wasn’t particularly impressed by some Hippy Dippy Stanford out in California. “I’m sure that Stanford would be an easy one to work through.” 

Jesus Christ Steve hated how underhanded his dad could be. He didn’t say anything about it, though. He guessed after a lifetime it was sort of ingrained in him, but he really wished it wasn’t being directed at Billy. He got enough shit at home, why come here and face Steve’s dad instead? Steve started in on the tortelini, his favorite dish his mom made – usually Steve didn’t really like spicy food, but it was really more of an after kick, like a burn-so-good kind of spicy? So it was okay. But still. Steve swallowed and blinked after he’d had a few mouthfuls and he chugged some of his milk, making a ‘jesus-christ’ face. 

“’s good mom,” He wheezed. “’s spicy, right?” He winced at Billy. He was flushed red all the way up to his hairline. Trying to change the subject from school. “But like good spicy, not like usual spicy.”

He glanced appreciatively at Billy, perking up a little at the offer, but -

“I didn’t mean with the applications. I meant with his classes, if you’re indeed in ‘advanced’ courses.” Grant said, sipping at his milk, and eyeing his son sweating over the cayenne pepper. He folded his gold, fabric napkin carefully and wiped it over his mouth with both hands before tucking it into his lap. He arched an eyebrow as he poked at the pasta. “He’s already received his rejection letters, and Steven won’t be attending classes in the fall. He’ll be going to work at the company. Isn’t that right Steven?” 

Steve stuffed more tortelinis in his mouth. 

***

Billy tried to coast over the thinly veiled insults but it was difficult, sitting there feeling like an injured bird incapable of doing much. He didn’t respond, which he knew was probably rude, but he couldn’t help it. He smiled at Steve instead, amused by his reaction to his mother’s food, twirling his fork absentmindedly and nodding along with him. 

“College isn’t for everyone. I’m just a little restless by nature, sort of like the structure. My mother was a kindergarten teacher and that doesn’t take much schooling, but she was happy,” he said, glancing at Steve and smiling again. “Think Steve would be good, working with people. Super generous, super kind.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Cynthia said, swirling her wine delicately in one hand, the other teaching out to squeeze Steve’s forearm with freshly manicured nails the same color as her wine. “We don’t see each other much—I’m just so busy in New York, but I think he’s just lovely. You could always start somewhere in the winter, Steven, if you wanted to.”

***

Secretly, even though he liked it, it wasn’t really is favorite dish. But his mom thought so and he liked to make her happy, so he’d always just kind of agreed - but it was maybe a little too spicy for him. It was still good! But he wouldn’t maybe call it a favorite. He loved his mom’s cooking though, and he would take all of it he could get on the off chance his mom was home and making home cooked food. 

So much better than eating a frozen pizza by himself, getting spooked from noises outside with the radio turned up. This was fucking great, really. Even his dad couldn’t ruin it. Billy was here, and his mom made dinner, and Steve loved his mom. Even if she could really frustrate him sometimes when she teamed up with his dad, to be a ‘united force’ or whatever. This was surprisingly not one of those times.

“I didn’t know your mom was a teacher? That’s awesome. I bet she was really great at it.” Steve said, swallowing down his mouthful and glancing at Billy with wide eyes and a dimple dipping into one cheek.  
He blushed at the comment about himself, his gaze skittering away and then back to Billy as he tapped his fork against the tablecloth. “You think so?”

Steve smiled and leaned back in his seat, still red, not really sure how to take the compliments - gaze flickering around the three people at the table, his mom, Billy, his dad.

“Thanks, mom. Yeah, I was maybe thinking about…applying again, after graduation. For the spring semester.” 

Steve’s dad waved his fork, shaking his head. “I don’t exactly think Steven is going to be teaching small children their ABC’s, now is he? He would be better suited at the office, where I can keep an eye on him. This semester’s grades aren’t going to change the results.” 

Steve rubbed at his temple. “Maybe we could talk about it later.” His dad’s favorite past time was publicly embarrassing him, though, and Steve knew his dad didn’t like Billy, so he didn’t expect it to happen. 

“Billy is actually really, really smart so college will be really great for him, I think. He’s at the top of our class.”

***

“And there’s nothing wrong with teaching,” Billy said, voice snapping before he could help it. “It’s good, you know, spending time with kids. There are a lot of people who can’t seem to do that.”

It was a dig and he knew it, his eyes fixed on Mr. Harrington. One armed or not he could probably at least deck the guy once. Not that he would. It wouldn’t solve anything and Steve’s dad wasn’t like Billy’s, had the silver spoon practically dangling out of his mouth. Hearing him talk about his own son like that, like he needed to be looked over, like he hadn’t been fending for himself this whole time—

“I agree, Grant, perhaps another time? Away from company?” Cynthia said, her smile strained but still fairly perfect. She clapped her hands together and stood, gathering everyone’s plates, placing a passing kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “I’ve got pie, if you’d like?”

***

Steve’s wrist dipped under the tablecloth to gently rest a hand against Billy’s thigh, fingers curling up against the denim – absorbing the warmth of him through the fabric. Like a soothing presence, because, yeah his dad was an asshole. And he was sorry.

Because it was a jab at being a teacher, like Billy’s mom, and it was a jab at Steve’s ABC’s apparently.

It fluttered away though as his mom got up from the table to start gathering up plates – passing behind him to press a kiss to the top of his head. It made his heart ache. He wished she was here more. Steve slid his chair back to also help gathering up the plates, to join his mom back to the sink to get all of the dishes in there. 

“Yes, please – what kind is it again? I think I bought some whipped cream last time I was at the store, do you want me to get it out?” 

With Steve’s back turned at the sink as he helped his mom stack the dishes there and rinsing them off a little, Grant turned his eyes on Billy, a close, calculating look there in the eyes so much like Steve’s. His mouth was a little pinched at Billy snapping back at him, nostrils flared – people didn’t do that. Not anyone who knew what was good for them. 

***

“That boy is very sweet, he thinks a lot of you,” Cynthia whispered softly, rubbing at Steve’s back before turning to pull a cherry pie out of the fridge, finding the whipped cream Steve had mentioned and passing it to him. “Must’ve gone through a lot of trouble trying to find my favorite flowers. I like that one, much better than your friend Tommy.”

Billy met Mr. Harrington’s eyes and held them, still so much like Steve’s but so much meaner, colder. He thought about the party Carol was throwing in the neighborhood later, about shirking his social responsibilities and all his shitty friends to spent a good night out with Steve. Maybe it would raise his spirits, make it a little easier to deal with his absolute asshole of a father. He nearly made another dig at the guy when Steve came back in with his mother, new plates at the ready. 

“Actually, ma’am, I really should get going. I’m supposed to pick my little sister up,” he said, turning his gaze to Steve’s mother again, smile big and bright. “Thank you so much for having me, everything was wonderful.”

Cynthia waved her hand bashfully as she set the pie down, her free hand pressing briefly to her cheek as she smiled, more at Billy than her husband’s brief sound of polite agreement. 

“Well, if you must leave we won’t keep you, but it was so nice finally meeting you,” she said, embracing Billy quickly on his good side before sitting down. “Steven, honey, could you see him out?”

***

Steve frowned, his hair practically deflating a little at Billy needing to leave, both hands full of plates full of pie and whipped cream. 

“Oh right, I forgot. Is Max still over at Mike’s?” He tried glancing at his watch, but it was a little difficult holding the plates. He set them down on the table instead. 

He observed the interaction between his mom and Billy, and he didn’t feel as mortified about it as he earlier, he supposed. Now he felt a lot more thoughtful about it. At first he’d thought Billy was being flirty with her like how he was with karen wheeler, and yikes, but…it was different. It just took a little more time to see it.

It was like, like he really, legitimately wanted her to like him. And that he liked her. And his mom was right – how the hell did he figure out his favorite flowers? He liked that his mom liked Billy – he supposed you always wanted your parents to like who you were dating, it definitely made family functions go a lot easier, and he wanted to be able to talk with his mom about Billy. Even if he…couldn’t actually say they were more than friends. But he liked it. 

He thought of how much Billy missed his own mom, how Steve had seen it with his own two eyes.

Grant got the newspaper back up in front of his face, with the pie tucked behind it as Steve got ready to guide Billy out.

“Yeah, mom, I will. Be right back.” 

He got them back to the red front door, grabbing Billy’s jacket off of the coat rack. Holding it briefly in his hands, and unlocking the door. 

“m sorry. ‘Bout my dad. Just…sorry.” Steve whispered, looking a little wilted at Billy having to leave, and it was all his dad’s stupid fault. “My mom really likes you. Thanks for bringing the flowers, they’re her favorite.” 

***

Billy watched Steve as he slipped his good arm through the jacket, pulling the opposite shoulder over so the jacket fell in front of the sling. Only another day or two and he’d probably get to take it off, even if it meant no sports or using the arm much. The look on Steve’s face gave him pause, his own regretful, a little sad too. 

“She does?” he asked hopefully, then shrugged with his good shoulder like no big deal before fixing Steve with a look, voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t go to bed early, alright? Keep your ears peeled. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

***

Steve stayed up. He had a thrill in his chest as he waited – and he knew it was a little risky, his dad was a light sleeper, but he supposed that the long stretches of having the house to himself had made him a little reckless when it came to waking his parents. It still felt like he was home alone, even with them sleeping down the hall. It finally came, hours later – in the form of pebbles on his window. 

Not the least bit cliché, and Steve loved it. 

He shrugged into his crisp, gray peacoat jacket with the tight, white t-shirt underneath, and the even tighter pair of darkest wash blue jeans that he owned. He slid the window up soundlessly, and ducked out of it onto the eaves. He actually knew the trick of getting in and out of his own window, unlike Billy when Steve’d almost brained him with the bat. 

He sidled over to the edge of the house by the guest room, toward where his mom grew climbing roses in the summer, and expertly found footholes all the way down the trellis until he jumped the last couple of feet. “Like a ninja,” he muttered to himself before turning to find Billy in front of him. 

***

Billy said hello in his own way, eyes roaming over Steve’s pleasantly snug looking outfit before getting a good handful of his coat in his hand to tug him close. The kiss he gave was supposed to make up for a day without any at all, a day with shitty fathers and nothing but Steve’s hand under the table to go off of. He sighed into it like he was taking his first breath of fresh air, wishing he could use both hands, touch Steve’s hair too. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You wanna get outta here with me?” he said quietly, lips still brushing Steve’s. “I’m driving.”

***

Steve grinned down at Billy as he tugged him close, brown hair perfectly styled into a coif, with a few single curls furling over his forehead. He noticed that Billy had his date hair too, with the perfectly styled curls that made him look like a sexy lion. Steve met this kiss hungrily, had been wanting to kiss him all day, all night, and he finally got the chance to. 

He’d felt like he couldn’t breathe all evening, and now he could, and Billy was his oxygen. Steve made up for the loss of use of Billy’s hand, which he internally cursed Neil again for – sliding one arm around his waist and using the other to sweep along the side of Billy’s face, thumb grazing his cheek. He’d shaved, and it was pleasantly smooth as silk. Steve wanted to keep touching him, ducked into the shadows against his house.

He shivered when Billy spoke against his lips, tasting his words on the air. “More than anything,” Steve admitted, an ache in his voice. “Take my anywhere.”

He followed Billy to the Camaro, almost loathe to part with him just to get to the passenger side. When he got into the leather seat, door clicking closed quietly behind him, he was already searching for Billy’s thigh. He would have grabbed for his hand, but he needed it to drive – obviously. Steve was a little baffled about how he used the steering wheel and also did the gear shift – Steve would’ve bet money BIlly could drive with his knees. Probably smoking while he did it.

***

Billy wanted to glance over at Steve but driving was a little trickier one armed, even if he knew exactly where they were going. He pulled into the quarry and put the Camaro in park to let it idle, slipping his newest stolen tape in from its spot under his seat. He hadn’t rewound it well enough so Taste of Cindy came on, but he didn’t mind. 

“Gimme a sec,” he said, climbing out of the car and popping the trunk. He dug through his runaway bags and found a bottle of Jameson and some decent blankets, still a little too cold outside to justify his completely open shirt for too long. 

He came back inside and set one of the blankets on Steve’s lap, the bottle placed on top like a present while he did the painstaking action of cranking the seat back for more leg room. Pain in the fucking ass to do right handed, thanks Neil. But he didn’t want to think about Neil, or about Grant Harrington, not right now. 

“Can’t get drunk if I’m driving you back later but I thought we’d celebrate you surviving dinner,” he said with a smile, curling up in his seat to face Steve. “Carol was having some rager, figured you’d like this better.”

***

Steve took the liberty of cracking the bottle open for them – admiring the Jameson before he took a swig of it straight from the bottle. He handed the booze over to Billy with dark eyes (because he could at least have a little even if he didn’t get shitfaced), before he shook out the blanket in his lap and curled under it, spreading some over to Billy – half leaning over the console, a slender hand still curled over that wide thigh. Tracing circles into the denim. He’d never heard this band before, and they weren’t exactly in his taste, but he didn’t mind it, either. It reminded him a little of something Jonathan might like because he liked to be edgy like that. Steve would never say that to Billy, though. 

“Yeah, sorry dinner was such a shitshow. I was hoping it – well. I guess that doesn’t matter now, but. Anyways, my mom liked you real well, I could tell. My dad doesn’t like anybody – least of all me, so, don’t take him uh, acting like that, personally.” 

Steve still felt rather guilty saying anything about his dad – because Billy’s dad was so much worse. What rights or grounds did Steve have to say anything about his own?

“I like this a lot better. Not really in the mood to party, I guess. I’m really glad you came back tonight, though.” 

***

“Yeah, I am too. Pretty mellow around the house after the—y’know,” Billy said, gesturing to his sling and taking a swig of his own, fingers curled around the neck as he passed it back. “Not gonna be under lock and key until it’s off, bet you anything. And don’t worry about your dad, alright? You don’t have to be sorry for that, not like you’ve got any control over it. I’m just sorry you have to deal with it.”

The hand on his thigh was warm compared to how cold it was outside, how cold it had been waiting outside of Steve’s window. Everything felt kind of charged, the air thick with something Billy couldn’t put his finger on. It got worse the longer he looked at Steve, that tiny thing in his chest swelling up uncomfortably, threatening to burst right through. 

“I really like your mom, can see where you get all the good stuff from.”

Steve took another long draw, letting it lick heat down his throat as he winced a little and replaced the top. He slid it down by his feet, letting it lay there while he got his hand back on Billy – like he didn’t wanna take it away for too long. 

***

“It’s alright, I mean it’s not really a big deal. It’s nothing, compared to…well, I’m really sorry about your arm – like, he feels bad? You think? That’s why?” Steve huffed a sigh, eyes caught on the white linen of Billy’s sling. He felt like he had to be more careful around Billy with that thing on – like a reminder that he was breakable, fragile, even if he kept up such a front as being this impenetrable fortress of strength. The sling was a crack in the façade.

Steve’s eyes raised up, dark and churning with some unnamed emotion in the muted interior of the car, liquor on his breath. Billy’s eyes were too blue and Steve felt too much looking at them, like maybe drowning in the ocean, even if he’d never seen it in real life. Steve lowered his lashes a little, feeling the tension roll over him in droves.

“Mm. She likes to think so, too. My gramps was also really good – you’d have liked him. He’d have liked you, I think. A lot. Stayed with him a lot as a kid.” 

***

“Nah, he doesn’t feel bad. Just can’t pile on when I’m already fucked up,” Billy said, wincing at himself, at how harsh it sounded in his ears. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

He knew it did matter, at least to Steve. But he didn’t want to wreck his plans of not dealing with shitty fathers for just a few hours, so he hoped Steve followed suit. He leaned further in and settled his head against Steve’s shoulder, elbow on the console to help him along. 

“Bet he was a good man. You’re a good man,” he said a little quieter, settling his head in the crook of Steve’s neck even if it took a little maneuvering. “Missed you. How long are they in town, your folks? Miss that bed of yours.”

***

Steve was more than happy to let it drop. He hummed low in his throat with the comfort of Billy’s head tucked against his shoulder, and he slid his left arm up and around stiff shoulders, holding him there. He nosed at silky, date-ready golden locks, inhaling slightly at the scent of cheap shampoo, hairspray, and that unique Billy smell. Trying not to be super obvious about smelling his hair like a weirdo or something.

“Mm. Thanks…I try to be. I’m trying to be a better one, than I was. Was kind of a dick, for a while.” Steve shifted, getting them better arranged over the console. “Missed you too. Thought about you all day. And they’re in town for a week, then they’re blowing this popstand. Like usual.” Steve sighed, his breath rising and falling slow, his pulse ticking away near Billy’s temple. 

“You miss my bed?” Steve’s lips curled up just at one corner. “I see how it is. It’s the feather down that keeps you coming back, huh?” 

***

“Mhm, that nice, big bed,” Billy said, his voice lilting suggestively before he was smiling too hard to keep it up. “Think I can come for a sleepover when they’re gone? Make a thing of it? I can be nice company sometimes.”

He moved away with an apologetic peck to Steve’s nose, just enough to lean down and grab the bottle of Jameson. He took one last swig before he knew he’d end up liking it too much and passed it to Steve with a soft sigh, lingering on the lines of Steve’s face in the dark of the Camaro. That little feeling crept up again and he swallowed hard, the whiskey still biting, thinking about Steve thinking about him. All day. 

***

“You’re a little more than ‘nice’ company,” Steve said, eyebrows arching like he was legitimately surprised. Surely Billy had to know that. “That was seriously the best time when you got to spend the weekend before, I don’t – hell I don’t even remember the last time I had so much fun. I’d love it if you came over.” 

Steve smiled so sweetly at Billy, taking the offered booze and took probably what was too long of a swallow – loosening himself up, wincing when he pulled it away from his mouth. Yeah probably a little much. He capped it off again, then dropped it back on the seat behind him. He’d caught the look Billy was giving him, and the fire in his veins from the alcohol, slow to take hold, made it easier to clamber over the gear shift, filling the space between the steering wheel and his boyfriend. 

He got his knees folded around Billy’s thighs, straddling him in the driver’s seat, running deft fingertips over his chest, into the dip a half undone shirt, mindful of that left shoulder. He had to slouch just enough that his head wouldn’t bump the ceiling, bending his neck so that he could kiss at Billy’s temple. His breath at Billy’s ear. Steve was a big warm weight in Billy’s lap, leeching on his body heat, the scent of him a drug in his lungs. Spine arched just enough that they were almost flush.

“Wish you were at my house all the time.” He murmured into the shell of Billy’s ear.

***

Billy hummed in agreement, couldn’t help but swallow again. He wished it too, thought about it fucking constantly. Sitting in his house eating breakfast, picturing sitting next to Steve instead. Neil screaming right up close, picturing Steve smiling instead. Laying back on his empty bed, picturing the only one he’d ever slept well in. Picturing maybe someday, even though it would never happen, getting to wake up next to Steve every day. 

His eyes closed at the feeling of Steve’s fingers roaming over his chest, the considerate way he was leaning away from the sling. Steve’s hot breath on his ear, like it belonged there. 

“I love you.”

***

Steve froze. He didn’t mean to. In retrospect, he would’ve probably regretted freezing. But he did. And of course he was already in Billy’s lap, so where was he supposed to go? So he went still instead, face still hidden against Billy’s curls, but his eyes were wide open. Searching the darkness as he tried to remember to breathe, his fingers convulsing slightly against Billy’s chest, like they’d forgotten what they were doing. 

He…what? Steve’d only said I love you to one person that wasn’t a family member or something, and the first time he’d said it to her – because of course Steve’d said it first, she’d said, you’re an idiot, Steve Harrington. Not exactly what he’d expected for a response, not what you said when someone told you they loved you, and in all honesty, a bit of a red flag he probably should’ve paid attention to. But he didn’t. He’d thought it was an endearment. It wasn’t.

He’d had the inklings of what felt like love for a while. He’d kept them locked like trinkets in a drawer in the back of his mind that he kept locked, didn’t take them out to examine them or anything. Though maybe he should’ve. 

Sometimes people didn’t say it, and still didn’t mean it, like his dad. Or people DID say they loved you and didn’t mean it, like Nancy. And what did you do then? When you turned your whole fucking world upside down for a love that was bullshit? 

Steve remembered Billy calling him bullshit in the foyer. He flinched and pulled back a hairsbreadth. More than that, really. Enough that he could actually look Billy in the eyes, his own all big, dark and startled. Hands now curled up against Billy’s chest like unsure things – not moving anymore. Just frozen, like the rest of him. 

“Wh…” Steve swallowed, his throat had gone fucking dry. Licked his lips, they were dry, too. He wondered if maybe he’d misheard. Maybe he took a longer sip than he thought. “What?” 

***

“I...love you. Like, really love you,” Billy said, blinking rapidly at himself because who the fuck was this, saying any of these words together in a sentence. But Billy tried—often failed, but tried not to be a liar. Absolutely none of this was a lie, it was a feeling so all encompassing he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

He’d never loved anyone before, not really, not except his mother. This was different. It was worlds different than just lust or familiarity or fondness, some dizzying combination of all three. The sort of feeling that had him daydreaming in the shittiest points of his day, picturing what it might be like to not be alone, maybe forever. 

That wasn’t how Steve saw it, Billy knew that the second they fucked. He was a fun ride for Steve, something interesting and dangerous to try on on his way to a picket fence and a wife as pretty as Nancy Wheeler. He knew that. Seeing it, though? That felt different, and not in a good way. 

His stomach dropped out somewhere and that little thing shriveled right up but he tried to stave the ache off, just smiled instead, a tiny apology. Sorry for the mess. 

“It’s...you don’t have to say anything. Really, you don’t. I didn’t mean to just—it’s alright. Really.”

***

Steve was studying Billy’s face avidly, his heart thumping hard in the soft parts of his throat, eyebrows almost all the way up to his hairline. Billy looked startled, at himself, at Steve, who knew – but he kept blinking real fast, and Steve just sort of stared back, forgetting to blink. His face was a mask of caution and confusion.

People didn’t…people didn’t love Steve, he had been starting to have a sneaking suspicion. Maybe just his grandpa, but he was dead, and gone, and it had been so long that it was difficult to remember. Maybe he’d just put up with Steve, and Steve was looking at the time through rose colored glasses. 

And his mom was sweet, when she wasn’t teaming up with his dad and becoming a team of assholes, and she said she loved him, but if she loved him so much why was she only there a handful of weeks all year, and forgot to call on his birthday because she had a big deal going through? 

And Nancy had strung him along for two years secretly loathing his fucking guts. Enough said.

The others at school he’d thought ‘loved him’ when he was popular, dropped him like a sack of potatoes when they realized he wasn’t so cool after all. Even him and Tommy had fallen out with each other with the smallest of fights. Tommy didn’t even try to fix it. Neither did Steve, but – they’d been best friends since they were five. Wasn’t that supposed to be a kind of love, too? 

But on the other hand, what about Billy? Who did Billy have to love him? His mom was gone. His dad was a nightmare. Max was standoffish at best. Susan just a shadow. And Steve knew how far the love of the crowd could get you, which was nowhere. 

Jesus Steve wanted to move out of Billy’s lap, because he knew he was being a total asshole, and not saying it back, but it was like he had a golf ball in his throat and he couldn’t fucking talk – everything logical in his mind said to say it, and he knew he should – it was the right thing to do, if that was how he felt, and all the inklings locked in the drawer rattling to be let out thought the same thing. 

But he just - fucking - choked.

“Why?” was all that came out.

***

“I—Jesus, seriously? You’re fucking—you’re perfect,” Billy blurted out, a look of disbelief on his face. “You’re really kind and generous and you just care, you care about everyone, even people you shouldn’t, and even too much sometimes. You’re good, all the way through and you get this look on your face sometimes when you’re confused and you look like a little pug or you get all bratty and pouty and do that thing with your mouth like the whole world is coming down. And you’re probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen and yeah that’s why we started—but that’s not it. It’s this.”

He poked at Steve’s chest gently with two fingers, right in the center, a mirror image of what Steve had done before they’d fought. Before he’d done something unforgivable, something he was constantly trying or hoping to make up for. And Steve had stuck around anyway. 

“I just—do, I love you. I know you don’t feel like that and that’s—it’s fine, I knew that, and it’s okay. You don’t have to say it back, I wouldn’t make you say it back.”

***

Steve didn’t think he believed him. He could think of a lot of counter attacks to each of Billy’s arguments, but he didn’t say them. Instead, his brow furrowed down as he thought about looking like a pug – no he didn’t – and trying not to warm at the place Billy’s fingers touched. He wanted to point out to Billy how wrong he must be, because Steve wasn’t perfect, he was far from it. 

He might think that he loved Steve, but…Steve frowned and slid down in the seat, really warping his back to be able to get his arms wrapped around Billy’s waist, pressing his face into his chest so that he didn’t have to look at him anymore – silently contemplating what he’d said, the way he said he knew Steve didn’t feel like that, but how would he just have known that, especially if it wasn’t true?

“Maybe you just…think you do. Love me.” He said in a soft voice, almost lost in the music of the tape deck. 

***

“If that would make you feel better, sure, sweetheart,” Billy said, thankful for Steve’s face no longer in his vision so his own could fall. He took a slow, painful breath to keep it from sounding too much like a sad sigh, tucking his chin at the top of Steve’s head. 

He moved his right hand hesitantly over Steve’s back before it became a more insistent motion, sweeping up and down Steve’s spine like a comfort. Like an I’m really sorry for fucking this up or maybe you can pretend I didn’t say it, just don’t go. He didn’t say any of that though, couldn’t think of a way to open his mouth again yet. 

This wasn’t anything like he’d imagined the night going. He’d just imagined them making out for a while, maybe fucking if they could figure out a way to make his stupid fucked up arm work, laughing at each other and listening to music. He wasn’t sorry for saying it because it was true, though the sting still wormed its way in, the corners of his mouth turned down. 

“You want me to take you home?”

***

Steve breathed low against Billy’s chest, cheek pressed against the sliver of skin exposed there as he screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t believe how much he was fucking this up – Steve didn’t want to open the drawer. He didn’t want to turn everything on its head again, and have none of it be true. He didn’t want to hurt like that again when it all fell apart. 

And maybe that wasn’t fair – no, it definitely wasn’t fair, to either of them, because what kind of opportunity did that give him to fall in love again? If he wouldn’t ever give it a chance, just to avoid getting hurt again? What was he gonna do? Become some saint that lived like a hermit in the woods and never talked to anybody? He’d heard the term better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, and he’d tried to take it to heart – okay granted, Dustin had told that to him, but still. It sounded true enough. But he couldn’t help it. He was scared.

Steve stiffened up slightly in Billy’s lap, chewing on his lip, keeping his face hidden - eyes flashing in the dim moonlight and the glow from the dash when he got them open again. 

“…do you want to take me home?” he asked carefully. Shit, maybe he really had fucked up by not saying it back. Maybe he should have just made himself, so it wouldn’t be so weird. But he never wanted to say those words when it didn’t feel right to say it - if he was in any way unsure. It wasn’t fair to the other person. Steve had learned that.

***

Billy shook his head instantly, leaning it forward, nudging at Steve’s forehead with his nose until he looked up. The crestfallen expression was gone, something small and happy there again because honestly, even if he couldn’t have exactly what he wanted it was still good. Good enough for him, for however long Steve felt like giving it. 

“No, I don’t. We don’t have to talk about it, it’s alright. Promise I didn’t actually plan to make shit weird to celebrate surviving your parents,” he said, the smile turning crooked, his hand moving up Steve’s spine to run through the back of his hair. “I may have stolen some eggs for us to use on Tommy’s car just in case.”

***

“You would buy eggs,” Steve snorted lightly, tilting his chin up as Billy brushed up against his forehead with just the tip of his nose. 

He shivered delicately at the sensation of Billy’s hand playing it’s way up his spine to tangle in the back of his hair, which he’d seriously spent half an hour on. Steve let some of the weight of his head rest in that comfortingly big hand, eyes slipping closed for only a second – he needed to straighten up or this position was gonna really mess with his back. He arched up, closer to Billy’s mouth, nosing at the corner of it. His eyes stayed downcast, studying a surprisingly smooth cheek.

“It’s not – that I don’t – I just, I need to…think…about it.” He made a little face, then briefly flicked his gaze up to meet Billy’s, searching those endless blue eyes in the night-dark interior of the Camaro. 

“Just – are you sure?”

***

Billy met Steve’s gaze like he’d met his father’s just a few hours earlier, always eager to stand his ground and drive some kind of point in. It would’ve been easy to answer anyway but Steve’s face sealed it, big puppy dog eyes and sweet, soft, mouth. The real confusion there, like there was some world where Steve Harrington wasn’t his absolute fucking dream. 

“I am very, very sure,” he said, hand moving out of Steve’s hair, pointer finger running over the long line of Steve’s nose. “Pinky swear it.”

***

Billy’d pinky sworn him. Which really, that shit seemed to hold a lot more gravity after he’d started hanging out with thirteen year olds – okay they were more like fourteen now, but whatever. It gave Steve a lot to think about over the week, rushing through classes at school, catching Billy in the halls, waiting for him out in the parking lot, and sweating his way over the court without Billy at his heels – but instead, watching him from not far off on the bleachers. Always with those eyes on him. 

Steve wouldn’t admit he’d jacked off to Billy nearly every night that week. He’d jacked off in the shower, he’d jacked off in bed, he’d even jacked off in the living room on the sofa (when his parents were at work), and he just kept thinking about everything over and over and running the words through his mind like how he might run his fingers over velvet. Felt so fucking good, retracing those words. Loved him, loved him, loved him. Billy loved him. Pinky swore it. Said he was sure, sure sure. Very, very sure. Jesus it turned him on, the more he thought about it. And it felt like too much, and not enough. 

He had to drive his parents to the airport – and when he got back that night, Billy was supposed to come over. It was Friday night. But Steve waited. And waited. And nothing. He was so anxious he practically needed to jack off again, and jesus, he’d felt absolutely insatiable all week, he felt like he was coming unglued. Had he done something wrong? Maybe Billy’d finally decided he didn’t want to have to deal with Steve’s shit. Didn’t even say it back. What the fuck.

So somehow it ended up with Steve at Billy’s house at midnight – throwing pebbles at his window this time. Little ‘ting, ting!’s against the old, warped glass. Shaking them nervously in his fist.

***

Billy was half tempted to listen to some sappy shit like the Smiths on Friday night, too chicken shit to make it to Steve’s. He figured Steve didn’t really want to have the guy who’d awkwardly confessed his love over for a sleepover, even if that had been the plan. Well, it had been the plan a few minutes before he’d opened his big fucking mouth. 

Problem was he didn’t have a stereo anymore, so he’d settled for laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling like a sap instead. He’d even, maybe, started to almost hum something Steve would’ve played in his car when he heard a sound against his window. One he definitely knew. He sat up quickly and eased the window open with his newly freed left arm, poking his head out. He’d know that hair anywhere. 

“You trying to get killed or something?” he whispered, eyes big despite the warmth starting to spread all the way through him. 

***

Steve grinned all big and bright when Billy stuck his head out the window – hell, his first instinct had been to crawl IN the window, so this had to be better than that, right? He just jerked his head in a ‘c’mon!’ motion, fluffy hair swinging with it. 

“You coming?” Steve mouthed back at him, still smiling. His car was parked just a block over. He’d been blaring Tears for Fears on the way over here, probably needed to remember to shut it down when they got in the BMW. 

He was practically bouncing on the toes of his Nikes, scoping out the house to make sure it didn’t look like anybody else was stirring. 

***

Billy found Steve’s excitement infectious, rolling his eyes but unable to keep the smile on his face. He waved his hand out the window and signaled for one second before ducking out of sight. Sleep shorts weren’t even close to anything he’d walk out of the house in and besides, it still felt like it was about ten degrees outside. He flicked the lamp off silently and crawled out of the window after throwing his jacket and boots out into the lawn, closing it with a practiced hand to minimize the noise, his movements extremely slow. 

He waited until he’d gotten everything on and got back to the bmw to touch Steve, something gentle and passing, just a touch of their hands together before he got inside. 

“Oh for—Jesus, that’s almost as loud as I have it,” he said, smiling when Head Over Heels assaulted him the moment he opened the door. “Hi.”

***

Of course he’d already forgotten that he needed to turn it down before he turned the engine over, but by then it was too late – and he liked this song – so he just turned it down a little, twisting the knob enough that it wasn’t SO loud. His hand still felt a little electrified where Billy’s had brushed against it. 

“Ah, yeah – sorry, I tried to park far away.” Steve grinned over at him. “Hey.” 

Once they got both doors closed, Steve turned up the heat – blasting it, and rubbing his hands a little as he glanced over at Billy, eyebrows raised. He had a teasing lilt to his voice when he asked,

“You were seriously going to sleep? Why’d you stand me up? Thought we had an, I dunno, plan?” 

***

“Man, I don’t know! I didn’t think you’d want to,” Billy said defensively, though his tone was light too, hands moving in an exasperated fashion before he buckled up. “Well, I’m here now anyway, thanks to Prince Charming. You gotta get me back here by like seven tomorrow but otherwise I’m all yours.”

He craned his neck to watch his neighborhood grow smaller, some sick satisfaction in seeing Neil’s truck leave his sight. Good fucking riddance, at least for a little while. When they got closer to Loch Nora he turned to look at Steve instead, grinning wide. 

“Missed you though.”

***

“I’ll set the alarm,” Steve declared, winking at him, and then got them headed in the right direction – away from Old Cherry Road. “’course I still wanna. I’ve been waiting for you to come over all week, couldn’t figure out where the hell you were.” 

When they finally started to pull into the Loch Nora neighborhood, following familiar streets, Steve smiled over at Billy too, reaching over to tangle their hands together – it felt good being able to hold his left, dominant hand again. Steve brushed their thumbs together like long lost friends.

“Missed you too, seriously. Wish you’d come over earlier though – it’s already getting late..I got back from the airport at like, seven.” 

***

“I know, I just thought—I don’t know, it’s stupid,” Billy said, mouth twisting a bit, eyes moving to the windshield. “Just thought I made it too weird, maybe you wouldn’t want me over.”

He loved Steve, so he could be honest now. It sounded like a good enough explanation, along with the Missed you too. Having his left hand free felt perfect, his right joining the other to rub over the top of Steve’s hand. He’d missed it, even just this little part of Steve, everything else too. They hadn’t had much time to be together during the week, Billy cautious about smothering Steve after his confession, worried it would be the thing to finally get Steve to bolt. 

Looks like he was wrong. 

***

Steve’d had all week to really ruminate on things, and really, it was fine. He’d basically decided that they could continue on like normal, and he’d been examining how he actually felt about Billy a little more in depth – now that it had been drawn to the surface. He had no idea if he was ready to say it – but in no way was he gonna let it make anything weird, either. It had already been weird in the car, after. Steve guessed it was always gonna be weird when the other person didn’t say it back. 

Steve’s hand tightened around Billy’s, long, strong fingers against rough, blunt ones, keeping an eye on the road and only glancing over once. But he only caught Billy’s profile.

“It’s not, I mean it - it doesn’t have to be. I thought about it a lot this week – thought about you a lot, I guess.” 

Steve pulled up the long driveway to the house, withdrawing his hand tentatively from Billy’s to throw it in park. A few of his frayed nerves showed through for a moment, as his smile faltered and he blinked out the windshield, like he was reminded that he didn’t know what to do, or how to act. It had just been a really long week with his dad, and the stress of it feeling like Billy was avoiding him on top of that hadn’t helped – even if he’d been right there. 

Steve couldn’t have explained it, really. Billy telling him he loved him. It didn’t make any sense to him. It shouldn’t be true. It confused him, when he thought about it, but it also got him worked up if he thought about it for too long. It had been like something bubbling up, steadily, beneath his skin like fizzy pop and he felt excited and nervous and unsure all at the same time. But it felt like something was going to happen, and he needed it now. Yesterday.

***

Billy watched Steve out of the corner of his eye until he said—really? He guessed Steve would probably have been thinking about it all week. It wasn’t every day someone told you they loved you and you didn’t know how to tell them you didn’t love them back. The sting had definitely lessened over the past few days, just a thread of disappointment really. One very easily moved over because, well, he loved Steve. 

He climbed out of the car and looked at the red door looming in the distance, wishing he could reach out for Steve’s hand, hold it on the way. It was dark enough out that it would’ve probably been fine but that fear was always there, difficult to ignore. When the door opened, however, it was fine. 

“Thought about you too,” he said softly, shutting the door behind them with his boot, grabbing gently for Steve’s hand. 

***

Steve got Billy’s hand in his, and the second the door clicked close behind them courtesy of Billy’s boot, Steve was grinning – wrapping his arm around Billy’s waist, their other fingers slotted together, as he sort of spun them around like an impromptu dance to get Billy’s back up against the wall in a kiss – smiling against his soft, cupid’s bow lips. 

“Yeah?” Steve breathed into his mouth, all hot breath, chocolate dark eyes turned down to look into Billy’s - close enough for a butterfly kiss, too. 

All of the lights in the house were already turned on – clearly hadn’t been turned off between Steve leaving to go get Billy, and coming back – and the stereo in the living room was still playing, set to the station 99.1 which was mostly pop. 

***

Billy nodded, their noses rubbing together with the action, a little hum leaving his lips for emphasis. The little swing around had left him smiling though he could tell it wouldn’t be for long. The pleasant feeling was already giving way to something a lot warmer, his free hand moving up into Steve’s hair, pulling him closer, crowding himself into the door. 

“Missed you, sweetheart. Want me to show you how much?” he murmured, lips moving that inch or two necessary to catch Steve’s mouth in another kiss, fingers curling into that dark hair and tugging. 

***

Steve’s head tipped back automatically at the tug to his hair, breath catching in his throat – his mouth parted eagerly for Billy’s, his tongue anxious and wanting as it searched out it’s mate, licking passed his lips as he nodded in response – both of their mouths too busy to form actual words at that point. The hand that had braced itself at Billy’s back slid beneath his jacket, tugging at the tails of his shirt where they were tucked into his jeans, hunting for skin. He finally got to it, spreading admittedly chilled fingers against the small of his back, bracing the arch of his spine. 

A somewhat desperate sound that might’ve been ‘mhm,’ tumbled out into the wet heat of Billy’s mouth, hips pressing forward as much as they could into the other boy’s, trying to work a thigh in between those denim clad legs. 

***

Billy flinched at the sudden cold on his back and shivered, though only for a second. Then it was a shiver of a completely different kind, legs spreading to fit Steve’s between them. He wasn’t too proud to admit this was one of the things he’d missed the most, getting to feel Steve seemingly everywhere, the hot strip of his tongue or those long fingers on his skin. Their cocks both more than obvious now, just grazing each other as Billy rolled his hips. 

He bit out a curse as his dick gave a hard jump in his jeans, his head bumping into the door behind him. His hand slipped out of Steve’s and down his back, fingers fitting into his back pocket with a hard squeeze for good measure, holding his hips in place so he could rock forward into them again. 

***

Steve moaned as Billy’s cock pulsed against him – he could feel it through both layers of their jeans, and it made his hips stutter forward hungrily. Reveling in the little shiver he felt pass over Billy’s body, vibrating against his own. Even more, he liked the hand on his ass, snug in his back pocket like they were lovers.

Steve smiled against Billy’s mouth again and slid his hand lower too, tucking it into the tight back pocket of his Levi’s – “Guess we really are on Sixteen Candles now, huh?” Steve laughed lightly, breathless against Billy’s lips. “This seals it -”

The words were cut off with a little gasp, as Billy used the hand in his pocket to essentially drag him forward by the hips, rocking them together, so Steve mimicked him – mirroring the gesture so that he was pulling Billy right back against him, rutting into each other in unison. He could feel the ridge of Billy’s cock in contact with his, just enough if he angled his hips right. He was hanging onto Billy like a lifeline, kissing him like it was the only source of air, rubbing against him shamelessly.

And he knew they were literally just humping against the door like total idiots, but he was like SO okay with that. Because the friction was so good, and Billy was everywhere under his hands, all warmth and curls and golden skin, a wicked, wet tongue, and sinful hips that bumped against Steve’s like they were in a race where they were both winners. 

***

“Uh huh,” Billy said distractedly, his hand leaving Steve’s hair to shrug out of one side of his jacket. The one in Steve’s back pocket left next but was quickly replaced by the other, keeping their dicks rubbing together as the leather jacket fell to the floor with a clink. “Mind taking that shirt off for me, sweetheart?”

He dipped his head down to nose at Steve’s neck, hiding a small bite under his ear, one he smiled around. Steve smelled like a yuppie, all Calvin Klein cologne and clean linen, and something else that couldn’t quite be reproduced anywhere. He kicked his boots off and away and followed it with another grind of his hips, stupid with arousal, breath coming out in pants. 

***

“Mmh,” Steve made a disappointed sound at the loss of contact, even as their dicks stayed nicely meshed together – “Y-yeah,” he was totally out of breath, shivering in delight as Billy’s nose traced against his skin, nibbling just under his earlobe. He tentatively let go of his perfect handholds to dip his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, and drew it over the top of his head with crossed forearms. 

It made his hair stick up a little more on end once the cotton t-shirt was tossed aside, nipples instantly hardening even more at the exposure to cooler air. He was already tugging on Billy’s shirt too, fumbling with buttons – even though like only two were done, but he forgot what he was doing as Billy ground against him again, head falling back a little as he jumped on his toes at the extra firm pressure.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed. “Oh fuck. Why have you been gone all week,” shaky fingers scrabbled at the buttons, but he was clumsy with lust, and it took him way too long before he finally got them undone. He pushed the shirt off from Billy’s shoulders too, leaning in headily towards his throat to press a kiss to his jawline, lapping at sweat-sweet skin. Jesus, he looked so good, good enough to eat, all wild curls from already being in bed and lips that were pink and plump from kisses.

***

Billy smiled against Steve’s ear and pulled back, reaching up to slick Steve’s bangs back with mixed success. I love him, it ran through his head like a litany and he knew it showed on his face and he finally felt like it was okay. It was okay if Steve didn’t because he still clung to Billy with greedy fingers and looked at him like that, like he hung the fucking moon or something. 

“Upstairs, c’mon,” he said impatiently, dislodging their bodies with a mournful sound. 

Getting upstairs was a little complicated. They stumbled up together and had to pause a few times, Billy too eager to taste that mouth again, get Steve’s hands on him for just a second or two. When they finally reached the door it was Billy’s turn to press Steve against something, his hand sliding down the front of Steve’s jeans, a sigh leaving his lips as he gave his cock a few slow strokes. 

***

Steve’s back hit the door, the solid feel of wood at his shoulder blades, and he stretched against it, twining his arms around Billy’s shoulders to pull him closer, closer. One hand buried itself into the thicket of curls at the back of his neck, getting a fist full of gold-spun strands.

Getting Billy’s actual hand on his cock was even better than the mindless rutting, because it was mindful, it had purpose – Steve’s eyes slipped closed as he pushed up greedily for the pressure of Billy’s palm, dick twitching against the denim, straining. He felt like he was gonna go out of his mind. When had been the last time they’d done it? Did Billy know how Steve’d seriously been so out of his mind all week for this? For him? All of him? The words ‘Very, very sure’ a broken record in his mind. ‘I Love you.’ Shit

And Steve’s hand wasn’t Billy’s hand, and the foreign yet familiar feel of that hand through his jeans had him squirming against his own bedroom door, lifting his hips away from the wood and forward. 

“Want you, Billy, want you – so much.” 

***

“Right here, sweetheart,” Billy said, his smile turning slow and feline, mean with the slow pace of his hand. “Let me get you outta these, yeah?”

He kept his fingers curled around Steve’s cock but brought the other to his belt loops, tugging gently so there wouldn’t be any snags. He only let go when he needed to help push them down, some bizarre urge to hold Steve’s hands while he stepped out of them that he indulged. 

***

Steve felt his face warm a little when he got his jeans around his ankles and stepped out of them, Billy holding his hands so he wouldn’t fall. The perfect gentleman. Steve was still trying to catch his breath, reaching out to undo Billy’s belt, and brushing their noses together like a kiss, eyes wide and flustered. His cheeks were still stained red, an affliction that went all the way down to the top of his chest and collarbone, when he said – 

“You’re the best, you know. God, I....I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

And Steve wanted to be the best thing for Billy, too. In anyway he could. He pressed a long, closed mouthed kiss to Billy’s lips as he got his button and fly undone, lowering his Levis enough to at least get his cock free. Breathing through his nose in short pants.  
When he pulled back from the far more reserved kiss than downstairs, Steve watched him with quiet, searching eyes, pupils blown wide. Soft fingertips brushed over the head of Billy’s cock, circling around it to the sensitive underside to glide along the ridge there. Steve swallowed, adam's apple bobbing sharply. He was breathless and moony eyed, brunette hair sticking up wildly now, chest rising and falling like he could not catch his breath even if he tried.

“Babe…” Steve said quietly, his other hand grazing over Billy’s chest, right over the hammer of his heart. “Fuck me? Want you to fuck me.” He swallowed again, hard enough to hear his throat click, blinking rapidly. “Please.” 

***

Billy felt his vision shrink to the size of a fucking pin, hands going still where they’d started to frame Steve’s face but not moving away. He wondered if this is what Steve had felt like, if he looked like Steve had in the car, frozen in place. 

It’s not that he hadn’t heard those words before. Jesus, he’d heard them just about every other day the second he’d gotten to Hawkins. That didn’t matter much though, it was sort of like being on autopilot. Doing something with the absolute wrong sex because he knew it would give him social leverage and the girl a good time, one good enough to report to her friends. 

He’d said them before too, obviously. A lot. The problem was he hadn’t said them other times, or had and changed his mind, and it—hadn’t ended well. The question Steve was posing was ridiculously simple but made him feel strangely nervous. There was no way Steve had ever gotten fucked by a guy before and he didn’t know how bad it could be, how bad Billy might be. 

Except—he looked pretty convinced. 

Billy’s fingers moved past Steve’s cheeks to hold either side of his head as he answered with a kiss, one searing hot and thankful. He nodded against Steve’s lips for confirmation before diving back in, nudging them closer and closer to the bed until the back of Steve’s knees hit the mattress. He was careful not to push, just let gravity send Steve onto his back so he could crawl between his legs, still partially clothed but too afraid to stop in case he lost the nerve. 

***

Steve didn’t break the breathless, burning kiss until he felt his bed at the back of his knees – lowering himself over the back of it, or more so just tipping back until he was resting – looking up at Billy, his breath rate rising again, but this time for a different reason. He was sure he wanted to, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous at all – it was new territory, after all, but something about Billy saying he loved him – Steve didn’t know…he’d given it thought this week. 

He wanted Billy to be in control of them tonight. He wanted the feeling of him inside, even if that sounded cheesy. That feeling of connection, in reverse to how they normally were – he wanted to try it. And if he hated it, he could always say it wasn’t his cup of tea, and they could move on with their lives, and…but Steve didn’t think that would happen. But he also liked knowing it was an option, just like he would never want Billy to feel forced into something either. 

He wanted to get Billy’s jeans the rest of the way off but honestly they were so fucking tight they were like a second skin, and he had no way of doing it from this position. His thighs spread open enough to allow Billy to settle in between them, and honestly, even this position was new, and it made the nervous tic in his chest pick up a little. But it wasn’t anything bad – just alert. He trusted Billy. 

“’s it okay?” Steve breathed, one hand flinching against the well-made bed beneath him, the other reaching up to grasp at Billy’s shoulder. 

***

“Yeah, yeah it’s okay,” Billy said softly, settling his elbows on either side of Steve’s head, one hand slicking that wild hair back again and resting on his crown. “You change your mind and you just tell me, alright?”

It was a short and pretty simple request but he was serious, hoped Steve could see just how serious. Being in this position could be terrifying and he knew that first hand, tried to make his expression soft, nonthreatening. That little thing was unfurling and blooming and reaching with greedy hands toward Steve, and Billy let it. 

“I love you,” he said, even quieter this time, eyes moving over Steve’s face, the hand not in Steve’s hair reaching to tug the bedside drawer open. “You can tell me to stop.”

***

Steve licked his lips, which were a little dry, and nodded against the mattress, against the weight of Billy’s fingers in his hair, grounding him.  
“Okay,” he agreed, shifting against the mattress, making it creak. 

Billy was acting like – maybe – Steve tried to relax against the mattress, closing his eyes and humming at that soft, meaningful ‘I love you.’

“Trust you,” was the first reply that came to mind, gaze tracking Billy’s movements to the drawer – trying to remember if there was anything he needed to do. It was gonna be fine, it would be good – Steve was still hard against his stomach, leaking close to his belly button.

But he could feel how tense Billy was above him, how serious, and honestly if anything it was making him more nervous than before, squirming a little with the nerves, throat going tight – was it really gonna be that bad?

99.1 was still drifting up from downstairs, and…Steve knew it was Foreigner. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he flicked them open, blinking – laughing a little, a short, startled thing. “Is that…Is that Foreigner? Oh god, it is.” Oh jesus he couldn’t laugh, it’d totally ruin the mood. But it left him grinning up at Billy, and it felt easier to relax his muscles - he’d been holding his stomach taut, and the laugh loosened it.. “This song is the cheesiest!” Steve couldn’t help the smile, reaching an arm up to brush his palm over Billy’s cheek, fingertips brushing curls out of the way. They both needed to relax, he thought - Billy looked like Steve’d asked him to shoot him in the foot or something. But Steve knew it could be good - he’d seen how Billy could be, with Steve in him. 

“I wanna know what love isss!” Steve sang along to the music in a soft, high, whispy voice. “I want you to show meeeee!’ He was grinning up like a total goofball at Billy, trying not to laugh, doing a little bit of airdrums. “I wanna feel what love isss - I know you can show meee - “ 

***

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed and a small snort of laughter escaped him, that is until—Steve started fucking singing. Then his face broke out in a smile, one that made his cheeks ache and his nose wrinkle. He put his hand over Steve’s mouth but it didn’t stop him from singing right through it so he took it off, palm settling on Steve’s cheek while he set the bottle of lube somewhere at Steve’s side. 

“No more, Jesus, just—okay,” he said, a little flabbergasted by how easy it seemed for Steve to be such a dork, how he must look like some bratty stormcloud in comparison. He ran his fingers over Steve’s cheekbone and tried for a kiss instead, partially to make him stop and partially because he needed to. 

It was less hungry this time but no less heated, just slower. He remembered Steve saying what’s the rush once and tried to hold on to it, the kiss soft at the corner of Steve’s mouth as he flicked the bottle open. He nearly made a crack about how he could’ve definitely done this part with his arm still in a sling but held back, slicking his fingers and settling them between Steve’s legs. 

“C’mere,” he whispered, easing Steve’s lips open as he slid his index finger between the cheeks of that supple ass, finally dipping inside just up to the first knuckle. There wasn’t a significant amount of resistance so he started a slow rocking with his hand, working it up until it disappeared. “That’s it, sweetheart. Feel alright?”

***

Nobody really appreciated Steve’s singing but him, Steve guessed, but at least he’d gotten one of those thousand watt smiles out of Billy, and those were his favorite, so it was worth it. It had been his goal. Some of the tension had bled away even if they were doing this to the worst song ever, but it would be over soon. 

Steve’s thighs tensed as he felt Billy’s hand slip back there, and legitimately, he had no room to talk – he’d had three fingers in Billy before, finger fucked him more than once – so what right did Steve had to be tensing up when he was barely teasing the outside? But he’d never actually been touched there, and he couldn’t help it. He had to try and remember to breathe, eyes flinching shut.  
But Billy was kissing him, that acrobatic tongue licking into Steve’s mouth, and it was a slight distraction. But as the first finger breached him, Steve’s ass twitched against the bed, the arches of his feet straining in shock. Breathing in sharply. 

It burned – that would definitely be the right word – it burned and almost felt, wrong? – and Steve almost wanted to squirm away as Billy worked up to his knuckle. But he tried to loosen his muscles, tried to breathe – it was just one finger, christ, it was fine, this was nothing, right? - and he found that once he relaxed a little, it was a little better. Didn’t feel good, but there also wasn’t quite as much of a sting. He took a long, few shuddering breaths as Billy worked his way farther in, eyes flinching closed again. 

The word ‘sweetheart’ was like a salve on a burn. The deeper Billy’s finger got, the less it seemed to burn, and turned into more of an ache – like he was adjusting. 

“Mmh, ss, ‘s different.” Steve mumbled through his teeth, his browline a massive furrow. “’m alright, ‘m okay” 

***

Billy kept his finger moving, trying to get Steve used to the feeling, but it was a near thing that he didn’t stop completely. Steve’s eyes were shut and it gave him the chance to search his face for anything beyond discomfort, his own expression quietly concerned while he chewed the inside of his cheek. He tried to make it a little better with a soft bump of his lips against Steve’s freckled jaw, his middle finger nudging against the first to press inside. 

It wasn’t easy, and he knew how foreign it must be feeling, that it might even hurt. He fucking loved it though, enough to do it all the time, so Steve probably picked the best option for his first time. Jesus, his first time. He pushed that huge thought out of his mind and curled his fingers in that familiar come hither motion, fingertips massaging along muscle, searching. 

“Gets better, sweetheart, promise,” he said against the curve of Steve’s jaw, his hand caressing his face before sliding down to his thigh. He hitched it up a bit and tried to take the pressure away from Steve, tried to get him to relax in his hold, fingers wrapped around a dark-haired thigh, more of those paint spatter freckles. 

***

The second finger joining the first, which, Steve thought might be worse – wasn’t so much. It actually seemed a bit better, and the more times Billy’s fingers slicked in and out, eased along by the lube, the less it seemed to sting. It was really more of an ache now, something low key, and he found that he could release some of his weight from his own body when Billy got an arm wrapped around his thigh – lifting some of the pressure from his spine against the mattress.  
Steve tipped his head back against the blankets letting out a panting breath, one hand twisted up into his comforter, the other blindly curling into Billy’s lions mane where it tickled his chin. 

It happened suddenly, Steve guessed. 

It was right as the ache was starting to turn into something more – more – he didn’t know the word, and he could feel Billy’s fingers curling inside of him, which was pretty trippy in and of itself…Steve’d known that there was a spot that Billy liked him to hit, inside. But he had no idea what it was or why, or anything, just that he liked it and it made him quiver around Steve when he found it.

Steve still sure didn’t understand it, but now he felt it – at least, he thought so. Billy’s fingers brushed against something as he made that ‘come’ motion. Steve’s eyelids shot open in shock, mouth forming surprise as his hips arched up off the bed, stuttering, fingers really twisting into the duvet now. 

“Wh- whu – “ The pleasure was so sure, so sudden, it was like white bursts in front of his eyes, blinding him until he had to close his eyes again, jaw going slack. Fire crackers lit up his spine.

“Oh fu – huh – “ Steve gasped, toes curling as he found himself pressing down against Billy’s fingers, searching almost. 

***

Billy knew that look, recognized the clenching around his fingers, the way Steve’s hips started to move mindlessly. He took the opportunity to twist Steve up a bit, lifting his thigh until it hooked over Billy’s hip, opened him up a little more. His eyes drifted down and he couldn’t stop watching the way his fingers disappeared, how fucking perfect Steve’s ass looked when he took them. 

“There you go, god, look at you,” he purred, fingers spreading and curling, digging into the spot he knew so fucking well. He watched a few more seconds before Steve’s face became more interesting, the arousal making that pretty fair skin turn pink, puppy dog eyes screwed up in pleasure this time. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart, so good. You feel good? You want more?”

It was getting harder and harder to ignore his cock, hanging heavy between his legs, too excitable to bother taking his jeans off. He gave himself a little relief, pulling at Steve’s other thigh until they were both spread out on top of his own, an even better view. Then he slicked his other fingers up and gave himself a few lazy strokes, just something to stave it off. 

***

The praise made Steve’s cock – which was already leaking onto his stomach – jump, as he breathed hard and tried to focus more on what he was saying. Billy’s words made a shiver go over his whole body, tip to tail, quivering as Billy’s fingers brushed over that spot again - more like digging into it. That fucking spot. No wonder Billy liked it so much, jesus christ. How did they never mention that in Sex-ed?

Steve nodded at him dumbly, jaw still slack as he tried to snap his mouth shut instead of letting it hang open, loose with pleasure. “Y-yeah, b-babe, baby – feels good, want you, want you – “ Steve babbled, a short whimper cutting him off, hips lifting off of the blankets again at another stroke of Billy’s fingers. His cock was absolutely throbbing with blood flow – he was so fucking hard it was crazy. “Please, please, want you in me.”

He dropped his eyes, half hooded with desire, to where Billy was stroking over himself, slicking the skin up with lube, and his mouth literally watered – his saliva glands making way too much, and he had to swallow. He rolled his back where his thighs were braced over Billy’s, liking the way it suspended his tailbone midair, how it opened him up. It was so much easier to relax into the position when it felt so good, and it was only Billy’s fingers. 

***

Billy could practically feel his eyes glaze over at Steve’s response, dick twitching just watching the words come out of those lips. He spared another long glance downward, fingers curling and digging before he slowly eased them out. With his newly freed hand he settled a hand on Steve’s thigh, soothing it and getting a snapshot of Steve doing the same to him once—that first time. 

He gave himself a few more tugs, quicker this time, before holding his cock by the base. His hand slid up Steve’s thigh to cradle his hip, hold him steady as he eased his way inside, those first few seconds of hot, wet resistance making him gasp. He knew not to buck but it was difficult, felt almost impossible until he reminded himself just how new this was for Steve. This could be good or it could be very bad for him and the responsibility weighed heavy on him all of the sudden. 

Once the head of his cock slid past that tight ring of muscle he made himself stop, a few choppy moans crawling up his throat. It felt—perfect, better than it had ever been with anyone. When he looked down at Steve he knew why, knew it wasn’t just the sex. It was being handed something uncharted, Steve saying trust you like it was easy. 

“I—“ he started, his voice choked, fingers digging into the slightly bony hip under them. “I love you—Steve, Steve, I love you.”

***

It was definitely more than fingers, that was for damn sure. Steve knew that Billy was thicker than him – Steve’s was longer, more slender, and Billy’s was a little shorter, but he definitely beat Steve on girth. He gasped at the sensation as he breached past the ring of muscle, muscles tensing and contracting around the foreign feeling. Billy was too far away for Steve to reach for, so he had to make due with holding onto the blankets, fighting for breath as he stared up at Billy, feeling just dizzy enough to be hazy. 

His throat was too tight, his entire body too tight, wound that way, like a coiled spring, and he couldn’t get anything out – even as he reveled in the way Billy said ‘Steve’ and ‘I love you,’ – he wished Billy called him Steve more often. 

Steve made fists out of the blankets, fingers convulsing as he nodded stiffly at him, repeatedly forgetting to breathe – only until Billy started to sink in deeper, easing forward. Then it was like marathon breathing.

He couldn’t stop staring at Billy up above him, holding onto him like he could keep him steady, keep him there, keep him from drifting away or disappearing. Steve’d thought, a few times, that he looked like some kind of Greek God statue or something like you’d see in a textbook, but it had never been more true than now, he supposed. He was all muscle, and perfect, unblemished skin (unlike Steve’s,) and that wild, flyaway mane. 

But the main difference between Billy and some marble statue was his face - he had this soft, supple, expressive mouth, and the cutest nose ever– with the biggest, most blue, intense, emotive eyes Steve’d ever seen. And in the second that he was saying it, ‘I love you’, looking down at Steve, he – Steve could see the love there. He could see it. It made something like a sob twist up in his chest, something tight that was about to snap from the strain, and he had to gasp, close his eyes, nodding, nodding, mindlessly, like it was some kind of a reply. 

Because it was there in his eyes. It wasn’t a lie, he didn’t just think he loved Steve, it was true, because friends - boyfriends - didn’t lie.

***

Billy waited a beat, just until he could feel something starting to give, Steve’s body starting to relax. Then he finally let himself move forward, hand moving back to Steve’s thigh and pressing it up toward his chest to keep it there. It was the only way to get closer, Steve all long limbs and a face that was too fucking far away. 

When he bottomed out he had to wait again, their bodies finally flush against each other, as flush as they could get. He lowered his head and placed a few slow, almost mindless kisses against one of Steve’s pecs, hips starting a slow and shallow rocking. The sound Steve had made, the way he’d closed his eyes again—he hoped it was good. Hoped him nodding was a good thing. 

“You feel perfect, you’re so perfect,” he said into Steve’s skin, back shivering with the effort of keeping the pace gentle, easy. “Gonna move, okay? I c—it’s too fucking good, you’re so tight for me.”

It was the only warning he could give before he pulled back and slid home again, the moan that came out of him next punched straight out of his chest. It felt so good it was making his fingers shake and his hips twitch, his cock weeping inside of Steve’s ass. He couldn’t quite catch his breath and felt sweat on the back of his neck, felt some on the side of Steve’s and tried to lick it clean. 

***

When Billy bottomed out, Steve let out a ragged sounding moan – he’d never felt anything like it. In his life. Ever. Billy was finally close enough to him that he could get his arms around him, thank god – they could practically be chest to chest like this. Steve hung onto his back, blunt fingernails catching at his shoulder blades as he tucked his face into the side of Billy’s head. He could feel the pant of Billy’s breath against the side of his throat, and when Billy moaned, he felt the vibration of it in his chest and his cock jumped, weeping between their bellies at the sound. 

He just felt so, so full – absolutely filled, in a way he’d never have thought he wanted, nor expected, but now that he had it realized he’d needed it. Needed Billy filling him and touching him as deeply as possible. It was something that Steve had been giving to Billy, liked giving to Billy, but from the receiving end he could never quite understand it. Now he could. 

Steve started making these sounds, short, desperate, needy things that he couldn’t actually control, or really process, once Billy started rocking into him with shallow waves of his hips. At the feeling, at the way Billy called him ‘perfect,’ ‘so tight for me.’ Shit. Oh shit, shit. Steve whimpered into Billy’s hair at the way everything was so overwhelming, but also not enough, like somehow too much could also be more. 

“G-god, you’re so big. It – didn’t know, didn’t know it was like this, feels, ah – “ Steve’s eyes flickered closed for a moment as he adjusted himself to let Billy connect better. “You can move – you can – jesus, feels…good. You feel so good. Please. Please.”

Then Billy was moving, he was really moving, their bodies connected in the most intrinsic way, with the sound of skin on skin, the space between their bodies humid with perspiration and body heat. One of Steve’s hands went to the back of Billy’s neck, hiding under his longer curls, slipping on the sweat there.

Steve hadn’t expected it to feel good. Not like this. But it did. The more Billy got moving, the better it felt, it didn’t even really sting anymore – not at all really, just maybe…maybe in a good way? Steve couldn’t describe it, even to himself. The pace was building, and Steve was completely consumed, quickly – consumed by Billy’s body, all around him, in him, with all of the sounds of sex and these breathy moans and sighs being punched out of him. Breathing fast, heartbeat in his ears. The swipe of that burning hot tongue at his jugular was almost the last Jenga piece that would topple him, pushed him closer to ‘out of control’, had him pressing back down against Billy, trying to get him farther, deeper, needing more.

***

Billy’s eyes rolled back in his head when he felt Steve clench around him, hips moving a little rougher, a sharper smack of skin on skin. He had to keep feeling that tight, wet heat around his cock and he couldn’t stop. His hands both slid under Steve, scratching down his back before grabbing a handful of each asscheek, spreading him open to make it easier to rut up into him. 

If every other time doing this felt like autopilot, he was more present than he’d ever fucking been. Every nerve was on fire and it wasn’t just his pleasure, it was the sounds coming out of Steve’s mouth and the way his body was scrambling to keep him close. Like something worth keeping close, so good you couldn’t let go of it. He did that, he put those sounds there. 

“St-eve, Steve, so good,” he gasped, face buried in that long neck, lips and teeth blindly getting their fill of skin like he was drunk off of it. “Like that? Just like that?”

***

When Billy spread apart each ass cheek to thrust up more steadily into Steve’s ass, he found that it was just enough that he was brushing against the spot inside – and it sent fizzles of color over his vision, electric colors that blurred into white, and sent bubbles to the pores of his skin like shaken champagne each time Billy got close. Every time Billy slammed into him, rocking him on his very joints, Steve let out a desperate, hungry cry, fingers scrambling for purchase on his back, needing him close. Holding on to him like he was the most important thing in the world, and Steve couldn’t stand to ever lose him. 

“Billy, Billy,” Steve babbled back at him, working his own hips back down, trying to meet Billy thrust for thrust at a frenzied pace. “F-fuck yeah, just like that, just like that, god, yes. Yes. You feel, amazing. You’re amazing.” 

Steve let go of Billy with one arm, stretching it up above his head so that he could grab onto the blanket behind his head, giving himself some leverage to push back at Billy, wanting to meet him pace for pace. The other kept curled against Billy’s neck with a desperate hold, cheek pressing against his crown.

At the same time, it felt like he was being flooded, all the way up to his throat, choking. It had started when he began to feel overwhelmed, like everything was too much, when that feeling started in his chest, like something was twisting, twisting, about to snap with pressure – it kept twisting like a wine bottle screw, working into the cork to pull it free. 

It had started with Billy’s ‘I love you’ and with the look in his eyes, like, like brimming with love, with real, actual love, not fake bullshit, not lies, something real, and true, and Billy was filling him, surrounding him, encompassing him and everything was too much, too much, not enough, everything – and – and – and – the dam broke in Steve’s chest. Almost easily. Like nothing. Like it was made of toothpicks, and Billy was a wrecking ball. The drawer in his mind shattered, a Pandoras box of ‘I love yous‘ he couldn’t shut up again.

“B-Billy - love you,” Steve gasped at him as Billy’s thrusts left him with no oxygen, his brain fizzing the fuck out. “I love you, j-jesus, I - love you, love you.” Steve knew he babbled sometimes when he really got going – or so he’d been told. “S-sorry I – didn’t say it, - before,” he said, each pause between words a choked breath, or stuttering on a thrust. “Was – s,scared. But, I – love you. So much. I love you.”

***

Billy’s head whipped up so fast he was surprised he didn’t knock himself or Steve out, thankfully missing his jaw by an inch. His eyes moved over Steve’s face lightning quick, big and blown out and torn between inquiry and full on desire. He was pretty sure if he wasn’t so fucking hard, so hellbent on fucking Steve straight through the mattress and yanking more sweet sounds out of him he might’ve started crying. 

Instead it was a wave of emotion, the kind that hurt, fucking ached deep down and all around that tiny thing he kept close. His breaths came out in whines for a few seconds, something like relief. He couldn’t stop moving but he could try and get closer, try and hit that same spot over and over again. 

Steve was scared but he—loved him. Actually loved him. Maybe the second person in his entire life who ever did. That thought did make his eyes a little too bright but he wasn’t upset, he was grateful. Beyond anything else he was that. 

“I love you,” he echoed, kickstarting another litany, his eyes glued to Steve’s face as he hit Steve’s prostate as dead on as he could, as often as he could. He wanted him to know what it felt like, what absolute pleasure felt like when—you loved someone. 

***

Billy’s head jerked up so fast Steve had to ogle back at him, breathing hard, lust blown eyes wide – worried for a second he’d said something wrong, maybe he shouldn’t have, but – he realized it was just surprise, not a bad surprise, so he eased back on the mattress, chest heaving. Steve got his hand up in the air, the one that had gripped the blankets behind him to reach up and soothe over Billy’s face, stroking along the side of his cheek, the bump of his sharp cheekbone. Making sure he was okay. The other hand convulsed at Billy’s neck as he continued to thrust into Steve, hardly missing a beat, making what might’ve been words like ‘Bu-h , ah, B-Billy.’ 

Goosebumps flared out over his chest, pecs to navel, and all down his arms when Billy said he loved him again.  
“L-Lo, - “ Steve started again, but he was cut off as those blue eyes basically stared into his soul, and Billy started slamming into that spot – head on, in fact (literally,) – and it was different than his fingers, or when his cock’d just been brushing it before.

Steve’s entire body went rigid like a live wire had snuck up his spine, eyes rolling up and clenching shut, mouth dropping open as he pressed back in absolute desperation, earnest desperation. He couldn’t really see through it, blinded with the pleasure. It was like some kind of a fucking button that Billy was pressing deep inside of him that, well, who the fuck even knew that was there, somebody had some serious explaining to do about anatomy – 

Steve kind of blanked out, honestly.

Like he checked the fuck out and all he could do was feel and try and breathe and claw at Billy’s back as he tried to hang on for dear life. He didn’t even know what kinds of sounds he was making anymore, but he was definitely keening under Billy, broken, lost things – lost in the sensation, and lost in Billy, because Billy loved him, he loved him, loved him, and Steve loved him too. 

***

Billy watched Steve come apart before his eyes, some filthy sort of pride washing right over him. It was coupled with fondness, the kind that made his chest ache, made him wish Steve sounded like this all of the time, could let himself unravel like this every second of every fucking day. He knew he could give that to him now, and the responsibility was still enormous but left him feeling warm, actually in control of something. 

He released his grip on one of Steve’s cheeks to circle around to his cock, trying to pull him off in time with his frenzied thrusts. It seemed like whatever he was doing was working, turning Steve into some boneless, beautiful version of himself and it only served to bring his own orgasm closer—coiling up, waiting to strike. 

“There you go, come on baby just let go,” he panted, pressing a sweaty kiss to his temple, the force of his thrusts knocking them together. “I love you, I love you, you can let go. I’ve got you.”

***

Once Billy’s hand started up on his cock, tugging him in tempo with each impossible thrust, Steve’s back arched up off the bed into that touch like a comma. He got one hand into Billy’s hair, trying to pull him into a sloppy, touch and go kiss. 

Billy was like this fierce, all consuming lion above him, shimmering gold, glistening with sweat, holding Steve so close. And he couldn’t really think, everything pleasant white noise and skin on skin, sliding against one another with sweat, and nothing but Billy’s momentum carrying them forward.

Steve was gasping, coming apart beneath Billy’s touch, unraveling like wool yarn, especially when he called him ‘baby,’ told him he loved him again, again, that he had him. Steve was almost startled by how quickly his orgasm snuck up on him, sideswiping him. 

“D-don’t stop, don’t stop -” It’d been steadily building, but it really did take him by surprise – washing over his skin in tingles and static and he knew he was saying something, something like “Billy, Billy, Billy – sh – oh god, baby – I – uh - “ 

Then his head was rocking back on his neck, creating a sharp angle from chin to Adam’s apple - limbs locking up as come painted his clenched stomach, hips mindlessly moving into Billy’s touch. Sweat damp hair flopped back with the movement, and his toes were so curled up they almost hurt - still midair where his thighs were being held up against his own chest. Trembling with the onslaught of his orgasm, quaking with each thrust, moaning so deep it made his throat vibrate, his lungs ache.

***

Billy’s eyes were stuck on Steve’s neck, on the come streaked across his skin, on the totally blanked out look on his face. They were so close together he could feel Steve moaning, a sound that knocked the wind out of him. He left Steve’s cock alone and used both hands to grip the back of Steve’s thighs, pressing him completely in half as he chased his orgasm. 

Every word got sucked right out of his throat, left behind nothing but staccato sounds, hard grunts and loud exhales. Pleasure uncoiled and struck him hard, had him rutting into Steve in a frantic rhythm, no finesse once he started to come. His vision whited out and he fell forward, his face buried in Steve’s neck as he whimpered, the last of his orgasm wrung out of him. 

“Love you,” he panted, giving a few more thrusts even once he was spent until he stopped completely, arms wrapping tightly around Steve’s middle and holding him as close as he could, trying not to put his entire weight on him. “God, you’re perfect, you’re so good.”

***

Steve tried to work back against Billy as much as he could, but he felt absolutely wrung out like a wet sponge, his cock sensitive on his belly – and reminded of just how full he was as Billy’s stamina turned frantic. He hung onto Billy’s shoulders with a weak grip, bones turned to jelly, but still egging him on with little sweeps of his hips. He stared up wide eyed at Billy’s face as he came, memorizing the visage of absolute pleasure etched into those strong features before he was slumping back down. Over him.

Steve’s trembling legs eased a bit from where they’d been folded back, getting the soles of his feet back down on the mattress so that it would be easier to straddle Billy between them. They were both breathing hard, and Steve appreciated Billy’s arms around him, grounding him. He wrapped his own arms back around those broad shoulders, one hand playing along his spine like piano keys, the other staying buried in his hair.

His eyes were closed as he tried to get his bearings, readjusting to the feeling of Billy still inside of him – softening just as Steve did – and the thick feel of come inside was an entirely new feeling to add to the list. One Steve decided he also liked, like he’d done something right for Billy to be able to get off inside of him. He was entirely punch drunk on post orgasm bliss, and this so good burn between his legs that might have him walking funny for a time.

“Love you, too,” Steve gasped back at him, smiling, still trying to catch his breath. “No you, that was…felt so good. Felt really good. Didn’t know it’d be like that.”

***

Billy grinned into Steve’s neck as he gasped for breath, felt it hitch as he slowly pulled out. Then he rolled off to the side but they didn’t stay apart for long, Billy’s arms reaching to gather Steve up, one leg sliding up and over his hip. He felt exhausted, honestly close to passing out but he couldn’t let the opportunity to look at Steve slip away. 

“Can be, is with you” he said softly, running his hand up and down Steve’s back in what he hoped was a soothing motion, knowing how sore he might be. “Thanks for—trusting me, with all of it.”

He couldn’t tell how open his face was but he thought Steve might be able to see how honest he was, how important it felt despite all the casual sex he’d had. It felt different somehow, something with more meaning, like they’d entered completely equal footing. 

“You love me, huh?”

***

Steve tilted his body towards Billy, and where Billy’s thigh slid over his right one, Steve’s thigh went in between his – interlocking their legs. His felt sort of grabby, clingy almost, and he curled up close. The feel of that rough, callused hand soothing up and down his back making him feel sort of drowsy, still buzzing and blissed out. He felt a little high, like he didn’t have enough oxygen in his brain.

With the two arms that were trapped in between their bodies, Steve caught Billy’s hand and twined their fingers together, finally holding his hand like he’d wanted to when they’d been fucking just moments before. He was close enough to see the fine, fine freckles along that button cute nose from exposure to the sun, and how long his eyelashes were, even little flecks of color in the blues of his irises. And he could see how open those eyes were to him, no shutters, no drapery to hide what he was thinking or feeling, no walls. And it felt so good to see that. Just Billy looking through.

“I’d trust you with anything,” Steve said slowly, for emphasis. Because there was no need for thanks.  
He felt better, now that Billy’d been inside of him – like they were both taking and giving now, instead of when it was always Steve the one that was giving, even though he knew how much Billy liked being on the receiving end. But it felt more balanced now, even. And now Steve finally understood, he got it.

Steve hummed and brushed their noses together, eyes flickering closed, then open again, awash with his feelings – just as revealing as Billy’s were.

“I do.” He was even quieter now. “Sorry, again, that I didn’t – I just…I have. For a while. Just, couldn’t say it.”

***

“It’s okay,” Billy said, his voice a little thin in his ears. It was okay and he felt like he’d needed to say it, but he was sort of caught on the words that had come after sorry. 

Steve had, for a while. Had loved him. Loved him now. 

The arousal was all but gone and there wasn’t much stopping it now, the sting behind his eyes. He was able to blink it back but it was still there, so raw it made his chest burn. He sniffed hard and looked down at their hands, tried not to let his chin wobble too much because it wasn’t the best look, almost crying after fucking. He’d already done that once, right here. 

“I don’t wanna go at seven,” he said, voice wobbling more precariously than his face, something petulant in it that almost made him smile at how stupid it was. 

***

The hand that had been tracing over Billy’s spine lifted to touch that pretty face instead, running soft, tentative fingertips over his cheek, the line of a perfect eyebrow, the strong bridge of his nose. The wobble of his chin. “Hey, hey, you okay?” He asked, frowning a little and nudging himself closer just enough to press a soft kiss to the corner of Billy’s mouth, a soft, brief thing. 

“You don’t have to go. If you don’t want. You could stay. You can always stay. I wish you never had to go back there, not ever.” 

***

“I—thanks, but I should. I should go then,” Billy replied, face smoothing right out at the touch of Steve’s lips. “Could we sleep? Just for a few? I’ll set the alarm on my watch.”

He tried to look as imploring as possible, eyebrows lifted and something stupidly hopeful on his face. If he was being honest the last time he’d been here had been the best sleep of his fucking life. It wouldn’t be much longer until seven but it would give him something nice to remember. Something nice on top of everything that had happened tonight. Something he could stow away for later. 

***

Steve looked at him like he didn’t quite believe him – he’d looked pretty sad for a second, or something, but – yeah. Yeah sleep sounded pretty good. And Steve knew it wasn’t fair of him to say something like that, like don’t go home – knew he was being selfish, and probably over-protective. But after the shoulder incident – those sounds Billy’d made haunted his dreams now. Sometimes he heard them when the demo-dogs were bearing down instead of their usual chitters, and then Neil was there, and Billy was covered in blood – and Steve had woken up screaming. Steve huffed a sigh, and slipped his eyes shut against the memories of dreams. 

“Yeah, yeah sleep sounds…really good. Sex makes me tired,” he admitted, though he thought Billy might already know that. 

He made this one of a kind pouty face, making a tongue blep as he wrinkled his nose.  
“Somebody didn’t get here at 7 like they were supposed to or we would’ve had more time – I picked out a movie ‘n everything…” 

Steve’s voice was already starting to get hazy with sleep as he sniffed and curled up more securely against Billy – he thought he should probably get up and rinse off in the shower, considering he could feel something cooling leak out of his ass, but he couldn’t really bring himself to give it that much thought. He was tired. 

The next second, Steve was waking up with the alarm, blinking himself awake at Billy’s digital watch yammering in his ear. He sniffed and sat up abruptly, looking around like there was some kind of attacker – but nothing was there. He shivered. The room was dark and chilled – how had the lights gotten turned off – were they even on before? He hadn’t been paying attention. He was buck ass naked on the bed with no blankets and he shivered again. They’d fallen asleep on top of the blankets, and Billy had been the heat source. Steve leaned over and gently shook his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

Hissing, “Billy, babe! Wake up,” into the dark interior of the room. He hated how dark it stayed so late into the morning, then got dark again in the late afternoon. This time of year sucked. It was maybe six AM.

***

Billy swatted at his wrist blindly until his fingers decided to work, pressing the button that made his ears stop ringing. He nearly fell right back asleep he was so comfortable, grunting irritably and pushing his face into Steve’s chest. Steve’s naked chest with little goosebumps on it. 

“Okay okay,” he said, or thought he did as he pushed himself to sit up. When he looked down Steve was there, still laying close but looking cold. Must be time to go. 

He pulled his jeans all the way up and slid off the bed, ushering Steve under the blankets until he could cover him with them, tucking them in all around him like his mother used to do. The sight made him want to crawl back in but he knew it would only be slightly worth the shit he’d be in if he did. He settled for kneeling across to get a hold of Steve’s face, fingers stroking his cheek as he planted one last kiss on his lips. 

“Taking Mad Max to the arcade on Sunday, you going?”

***

Steve was still half asleep as he let Billy get him under the blankets, still trembling with the chill – he should really turn up the furnace – but the blankets were cozy too. He responded sleepily to the kiss on his lips, tongue briefly swiping out to glide along Billy’s lower lip as he smiled dreamily. 

“Mm…Sunday…yeah. Yeah I am, I’m driving Dust, then taking ‘em to the Comic Book shop couple towns over.” 

Steve hummed, ready to slip back into that easy, warm embrace of sleep, but he suspected it wouldn’t last without Billy there to keep the dreams away. He suddenly blinked himself back awake, stirring. 

“Hey, hang on – wait, I gotta get up. Gotta get up.” He sat up, rubbing his face with both hands and then scrubbing them in his hair, making it stand up straight on end. Looking at Billy with an owlish look. “I’ve gotta drive you, why are you tucking me in. What’re you gonna do? Walk? Hell no it’s cold.” 

Steve threw the carefully tucked blankets back off, reluctantly, then stumbled up onto his feet like a newborn calf. Holy shit his ass hurt. Yeah that was not great. He wandered to his dresser and tugged out a pair of sweats and a hoodie, which he shrugged into, anxious for the warmth. He didn’t even bother with underwear because he still needed to shower when he got back. He got the Tigers hoodie out for Billy too that he’d worn before, holding it out. “C’mon - I’ll drive you.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Steve the statistical possibility of heavy snowfall based on the barometric pressure is nil to none, it's not going to start snowing until way later! It's FINE.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! The weather man said!”

“Charles the Weatherman is a stain on the profession of meteorology and he's LYING!”

Billy had been listening to this shit for ten minutes, ten whole minutes. All it took was Steve rescheduling the brats’ comic book trip for Dustin to start throwing a shit fit for the sake of the party, the rest of the kids unbothered and still playing inside. He’d intended for this outside time to be spent actually talking to his own boyfriend, maybe scheduling a blowjob in the near future or actually finishing Sixteen Candles together but—

“Henderson, it’s going to fucking snow. The sky is white, there’s cloud cover for snow,” he finally butted in, taking a drag and blowing it in Dustin’s general direction. “Now can you scram so the adults can talk?”

***

“How would you know?” Dustin gestured at Billy wildly, “You guys just moved here from California what, six months ago? I’ve been here my whole life! It’s not gonna snow until tonight!” 

Steve groaned and thunked his head back against the arcade window, which was covered in foil from within to block out the light - let the vampires inside live out their lives in peace.

“Dude can you please just chill, I’ll take you guys next weekend, okay?”

“Steve this issue of Batman#24 has a limited edition cover release and it will totally be sold out by then! This is life and death! The party depends on you driving us.” 

“The party or you?”

“Both!”

“Shit, Dust, man, I’m not driving forty five minutes if we’re supposed to get dumped on, I’d fucking crash us in a ditch and we’d die and your batman whatever would be totally pointless. Tell me you see my point. NO.” 

“But Steve, my man, buddy, pal, - “

“Yeah, no!” Steve finally tugged his hands out of his pockets, fingers sort of flexing in the air to drive his point home, before sweeping one back through his hair. “I don’t have a death wish!”

He threw a desperate look at Billy, his mouth creating this mournful little bow because he just wanted to talk to Billy, too. He scootched closer to him against the wall, shuffling his Nikes, hands shoved back in the pockets of his jacket.

***

Billy looked down at Steve’s shoes and his own, the conversation far away as he smiled a little to himself, just a tick in the corner of his mouth as he sidled another inch closer too. This was nice, even if they hadn’t gotten to really talk today. He’d been a little...busy, may or may not have been preoccupied trying to beat his high score on Galaga while Max swore and cheered him on. 

That was nice too, some small slice of normality. Being around people he didn’t mind that much, ones that he didn’t really have to pretend around, even if they were just little brats. 

“Leave him alone Dusty,” he teased, a small smile with no bite to it, bringing his cigarette to his lips. “Max told me that’s what your ma calls you, you gonna introduce us?”

***

Dustin gasped, scandalized as he stared wide eyed at Billy, then glanced at Steve like he was looking for some kind of defense here. Steve just rolled his eyes and pinched his nose at the two of them.

“UH only my mom is allowed to call me that! Definitely not you!” Dustin gasped, then looked even more affronted, if possible. “Mike told me about you and Mrs. Wheeler! Stay away from my mom!” He stuffed his cap down tighter over his curls and promptly turned tail and ran inside to probably bitch at Mike. 

“Jesus, Mrs. Wheeler won’t shut up about you when Max is over for D&D,” Steve snorted. “When’s Billy getting here? When’s he picking up Max? Does he like Rice Krispie Treats?” Steve cringed a little, glancing at Billy with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk. “ Thank god he’s finally gone. Can I bum a smoke?” 

His gaze flicked down, clearly indicating he meant the one in Billy’s mouth. He leaned in to pluck the cigarette from Billy’s mouth without waiting for an answer, chocolate brown eyes dancing as he took a long drag from it - lips where Billy’s lips had just been. An indirect kiss. Holding it just between his forefinger and thumb. “Or we could share?” 

***

Billy was about to respond, make some joke about Karen Wheeler that might get Steve to get that cute pug dog grimace on his face again. All the words got yanked right out of him when his cigarette slipped into Steve’s hands, into that mouth he liked so much. He swallowed hard, an embarrassing and choked little mhm his only response. 

He reached out slowly to take the cigarette back, eyes glued to Steve’s lips, almost reluctant to take it back because that would mean he wouldn’t get to watch him smoke it anymore. His fingers froze mid-air at the familiar sound of a formidable truck, heavy and sustainable metal and the drag of an engine. A shiver worked its way up his whole body, the lights flicking off behind his eyes, had him scrambling quickly back into his head where it was safe. 

The sound got closer but the door didn’t open and that was a silent call for him to come up to the driver’s side, one he didn’t take right away. He took a second to school his face into a blank slate, hand falling to his side and spine ramrod straight, trying as hard as he could not to drag his feet as he moved away from his life preserver and into something dark and bottomless. 

***

Steve frowned, a little line forming between his eyebrows as he watched the life absolutely drain out of Billy’s face, along with the color. He realized the cause as he followed Billy’s line of vision – a huge fuckin’ Ford truck that probably had no right being that big idling at the side of the road, not even pulled into the parking lot. 

Neil was inside. Staring back at them – with a look Steve couldn’t quite decipher, the distance was too far. But it wasn’t good. Steve could literally feel the air shift around Billy, like all of the oxygen had been sucked away, and they were still outside. It was amazing how emotions – or lackthereof – could alter the actual atmosphere. Steve hated that motherfucker. Hated him. He steeled his jaw, glaring back at the truck, and bobbed his head down low as he shoved his hands back into his pockets. Shoulders hunching around his ears as he fought the desire to follow him- still with the taste of Billy’s Marlboro Red on his tongue. 

Instead, he watched with a stomach of anxiety, a pit there, as Billy strode away from him. Watching with hawk sharp eyes to see if he needed to jump in at any given moment.

Neil let the engine idle, knocking away as he patiently waited for Billy to get his fucking ass across the parking lot – patient being, not so patient at all, really. He was gripping the gear shift so hard he had white knuckles, but his face was smooth – mouth pinched – eyes flat. Just until Billy got to him. Staring him down like he needed to move his ass – only glancing over his shoulder once at the boy leaning against the arcade, glowering back at him like a little fucking smart ass that needed to be taught a lesson. 

“Thought I told that little shitstain queer to stay the fuck away from Maxine? And you. Can’t seem to follow orders, can he? With that smart mouth on him, don’t suppose I’m surprised. Practically as bad as you.” Neil growled at his son as soon as he got to the window. “Arcade’s cancelled.” 

***

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” Billy said, trying to keep from fucking wilting right in front of Neil. He hadn’t been caught in a long time, even if this was nowhere near anything but fuel for Neil’s constant suspicions about him. They weren’t doing anything, nothing that Neil could prove. 

It didn’t give him much relief. 

“I’ll go grab Maxine, sir, and we’ll come straight home. I can—I’ll take care of dinner,” he followed up, hoping it might be enough for Neil to not make a scene, mortify him out in the open. Neil was all about appearances, but sometimes that still meant something heavy handed, something pointed to make him think twice about whatever mistake he’d made. 

***

“You better not be fucking around with that boy. Do you hear me?” Neil asked in a low voice, low enough there was no way it would carry – not like there was anyone close enough to hear it. Just that fucking kid, and he was way over by the arcade, staring at them like it wasn’t entirely rude. 

“There’s a reason why we left California. You’re not uprooting this family again, William. Let me make that perfectly clear. You’ll get your sister home – and you’ll stay in your room. Susan is already making supper – and I don’t think you’ll be joining us tonight. I expect you to be back there in exactly ten minutes. No more than that.” If Billy had been standing closer – if that goddamn fag hadn’t been staring at them like that – Neil would have grabbed him by the chin to drive the point home. 

He lifted a hand to simply point at him instead, a glaring arrow of accusation. Staring him down like that could put the fear of God into the boy. “If I see you talking to that fag again, I’ll remind you what happened last time. I’m not putting up with this horseshit from you again.” Neil shook his head, finally looking away, moustache twitching, muttering “Goddamn babysitter…”

***

“Yes, sir,” Billy said, stepping back the second Neil’s attention was off of him. He knew he’d read it right as he turned around and heard Neil’s truck speed off, a veritable fucking stopwatch clicking in his head. 

It was sort of like slipping right out of his own skin, just watching himself move. He watched Steve move out of his line of sight as he pushed into the arcade, his whole body one hard ball of tension, coiled like a fucking wire. He watched himself push through groups of kids until he got to Dig Dug, Maxine surrounded by a handful of people, hand shooting out to close on the back of her jacket. 

“Maxine, arcade’s cancelled,” he said over the music, over the sounds of games beeping and clicking. “Neil wants us home, now. Let’s go.”

***

“Uh – hang on, hang on!” Max said, completely focused on her game, the score was so high – if she could just – get a little farther, she tried to twist away from Billy’s hand on her jacket. Desperately mashing the jump button. “Just one more second!”

Steve had followed Billy into the Palace doors, a little bit flabbergasted – Billy hadn’t even looked at him, had walked right by him like he wasn’t even there – just stormed into the arcade like a thundercloud, and he looked so much more like the Billy Steve had met when they first moved to Hawkins. Almost like a different person. One that didn’t know Steve existed, or did, but wouldn’t give him the time of day unless they were fighting. 

He merged back into the mass of gaggles of kids and buzzing arcade machines, frowning as he pushed his way after Billy, who parted the crowd more like the red sea. 

“Hey – h-hey, what did he say? What’s going on?” Steve asked, breathless as he got back up to Billy’s side. “Are you okay?”

***

“Maxine, now. Right now,” Billy said, barked at Max, in a way he hadn’t heard his voice sound in what felt like forever, watching his hand tug a bit at her jacket. 

He was having a freak out and all his wires were crossing at once and he couldn’t get a grip on anything, everything slipping right out of his fingers. He was seconds away from gasping for breath, his heart hammering and twisting at the same time, his hand practically shuddering against Max’s spine. 

“I’m fine, I have to go, we’re fucking going,” he spat, or tried to, hoped it was noisy enough inside to mask the way his voice was wavering. “Max!”

***

“SHIT!” Maxine spat at the game as she died. “Goddammit!” She kicked the machine with Billy pawing at her jacket and dragging her away. “What the hell, Billy – we were supposed to have an hour at the arcade!” 

“And the comic book store!” Dustin piped up as the rest of the party looked around in confusion, all flustered chaos.

“HEY! NO KICKING!” Keith hollered from a few ailes over. “I’m watching you, MadMax! You’re on thin ice kid!” 

The mass of people around them churned as kids rushed by and dropped quarters, laughing as they ran to the next game. It was Sunday, and the place was packed – what else was there to do in Hawkins when you were a kid, and it was cold outside?

“NO comic book store.” Steve snapped at Dustin, then zeroed in on Billy. He looked like he was freaking out. He could hear the way his voice shook, probably just because he’d grown so accustomed to it. “Woah woah hey, do you need me to drive you? You don’t look okay – seriously, what’s wrong?” Steve reached out to try and touch his shoulder. “Did something happen?” Like did somebody die or something? Is that why Neil came over? Why they had to leave so fast?

***

Billy twisted quick out of Steve’s reach, that little thing hurting inside of him when he did it, but he couldn’t. Not here, not right now, not when it might happen again. When he might fuck up his life again after getting comfortable, all these good things he’d hoarded so close to crumbling in his hands. 

“No, you can’t. You can’t drive me, we’re going,” he said as firmly as he could, finally getting a good handle on Max to lug her out to the car. Even then he was trying, trying so hard not to be rough, to not ruin that precarious new pleasantness with her. There were too many fucking plates to juggle, they were all too close to falling. 

He drove crazier than he could ever remember, little regard for how quick they were going, ignoring Max’s squawking or the way he could see her gripping her seat at each corner they turned. He almost didn’t hit the breaks in time when they got into the driveway, throwing the Camaro in park just in time for his hands to start shaking beyond his control. 

“Get inside Max, go help Susan,” he spat, that poisonous anger coiling up his spine along with something else, something even bigger. “Get inside, get the fuck out of the car.”

I’ll remind you what happened last time. He needed a minute, he just—needed a second, just to get it together. To stop thinking about what it would’ve felt like to let Steve touch him. To stop thinking about telling the truth with Hopper kneeling in front of him. To stop thinking of the far reaching consequences of Neil ever laying eyes on Steve again. 

***

Max had scrunched herself down into the bucket seat, gripping the leather edges of it on particularly hard curves – held in place by her seatbelt. She stared at Billy with wide, sharp blue eyes – she hadn’t seen him like this in a while. Really this seemed different even, than before, because even though he seemed mad, like when he’d just seemed so angry all the time…he’d started to ease up lately. And this felt like more, because he almost seemed…scared. Max never saw Billy scared. What had happened?

“What’s going on? What happened?” Max asked in a small voice, but her chin jutted out and she tried to sound confident. They’d finally parked. “Why are you freaking out?” 

Max was watching him cautiously, like he might lash out – it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. Especially if she wasn’t doing what he told her to do, like getting out of the car, snarling at her like a pissed off mountain lion. She blinked rapidly, zeroing in on his hands. 

“Hey your hands are shaking – Billy – seriously what’s wrong?” She gripped the dark leather even harder and slouched deeper into the seat , like he was gonna try to kick her out but she was digging her heels in. 

***

“Max—“

Billy couldn’t finish it, couldn’t even start yelling. He knew he might be able to scare her if he tried, really tried, but he couldn’t. None of his muscles were working and he was shaking, shaking like Max was saying and he couldn’t stop that either. He just needed to get her inside so he could get his shit together and then he’d hide in his room, wait until everyone was asleep and open a granola bar in the dark, hands shoved into his pillow case so it wasn’t too loud and—

His hand was around hers. It was still shaking but it was holding onto hers, maybe too tight. It looked like they were shaking hands, like they were meeting for the first time—

“Max, I need you to go inside,” he managed, eyes squeezing shut. “I need you to go inside and help Susan make dinner. I need you to not tell Neil I’m—just tell Neil I’m having a cigarette.”

***

Max stared at him, all big startled blue eyes, pale lips parted on an inhale, and she almost looked angry with confusion with the way her eyebrows dipped down. Billy was holding her hand, and it was shaking so much, trembling in her own – much larger than hers, dwarfing her hand – clasped over the console of the Camaro. Something was really wrong. Really, really, really wrong.

“Okay…” Max said slowly, just to try and calm him down. “Okay I will.” She brought her other hand up to place it over Billy’s, sandwiching his between her palms, trying to still his shaking. “Is it – tell me if you need help?” This stank of last time, in Cali – that was the only other time she’d seen Billy like this. Before they’d had to move. After...well. “You’ll tell me, right?” 

***

“Yeah Max, I’ll tell you,” Billy said, lying right through his fucking teeth with his eyes still closed. He didn’t open them until he felt her little hands leave his, until he heard the passenger door shut. Even then he didn’t look around too much, set the heels of his hands into his eyes because there wasn’t anyone around to pull them back and away. 

A few minutes later the front door opened and he knew it wasn’t Max, high tailed inside and could’ve sworn Neil tripped him on purpose. He didn’t respond even when Susan asked if he was alright from the dinner table, just slunk off to his room, face hot with shame. His headphones were useless with nothing to plug into so he curled on the mattress instead and listened. Listened to the sounds of the three of them eating, even laughing a few times, probably easier to do when he wasn’t there. Whatever nice family time had occurred hadn’t changed Neil’s memory, still had him armed with a plate of food at Billy’s door an hour later. 

It was a fucking trick. He could smell it a mile away, the kind he would never have the right response to because, well, that was the whole point. So when he shook his head he knew, knew that Neil was going to be angry with him either way. It didn’t prepare him for the plate that nearly missed his head or the white hot pain down his thigh before he finally scrambled out of his window, Neil on his heels. He’d kept all his things on for a reason. 

***

Steve was smoking in the house. He was anxious. He had no idea what the fuck was going on and he knew he wasn’t supposed to call at Billy’s house, and he’d tried radioing Max and gotten no response – the walkie was probably under her bed, and she couldn’t hear it wherever she was. It just made him MORE worried. Steve was pacing the living room, the music turned up too loud, and he kept running his hands through his hair, making it stand up all crazy. He felt like he needed to go somewhere, like Billy’s house, or do something, like crawl in through Billy’s window and make sure he was o-fucking-kay. 

He felt spooked after the arcade, and his stomach was still all done up in knots from when Billy’d just brushed him off and rushed him and Max out of the Palace like a bat out of hell. What was gonna happen? Maybe nothing. But he kept thinking about the way that dickbag was glaring at him over the steering wheel of his big ass Ford like Steve personally offended him by existing. And the way he’d jabbed his finger in Billy’s face – nearly looking like he was gonna do something else, almost prompting Steve away from the side of the building where he’d been watching, wary. 

Steve almost jumped out of his fucking skin when there was a sudden knock at the door. Dropped the cigarette and had to catch it, nearly burning himself - snuffing it out in the crystal ashtray. There was another knock, another, then more, like someone was rapping at it constantly – not even bothering with the doorbell. Steve nearly fell over himself to get to the door, flicking off the radio on his way. He got to the door and swung it open, breathing hard, heart hammering in his throat, half expecting Billy’s shoulder to be hanging at the wrong angle again – for him to be making those noises, and Steve was gonna throw up - 

***

“Can I borrow your sewing kit? Have you got one?” Billy said for lack of anything better to say, I love you or I’m so fucking glad I made it here coming into his brain belatedly. “Mine’s at home but—I really need to use it.”

He made his way into the house, narrowly avoiding shoulder through to get inside. He didn’t want to do that, not again, not after today. The process of taking his boots off politely at the door felt strange, the air thick between them and more of that shame coming through, falling over him like a bucket of ice. 

***

Steve stopped dead in the doorway, giving Billy a confused, searching look – clearly not expecting that to have been the first thing to come out of Billy’s mouth. And his shoulder looked okay, but – sewing? What?  
“My – huh?”  
Steve was gonna invite him in but Billy half shouldered past him as Steve took a staggered step back, absolutely stumped. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting – but – well Billy looked panicked, anxious enough, but – Steve got in front of Billy to give him a searching look – now that he had a better look in the light as he got his boots off.  
Steve froze. 

“Billy, Billy – your leg, what the – what the hell – what the hell?” 

There was jagged tear through the denim at the edge of Billy’s thigh, like something had torn through it, and the denim was stained dark with blood – the skin beneath torn and such a dark crimson, it almost looked black – it looked like exposed muscle, weeping inky blood. And he knew BILLY WOULDN’T GO TO THE HOSPITAL FOR THIS EITHER, AND WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH HIS DAD?

“”Holy shit, holy shit – get – get over here, come sit down – oh my god, oh my g-OD.” Steve was half dragging Billy towards the couch, ignoring the drip of blood that was obviously trailing down past the ankle of Billy’s jeans onto the pristine carpet. It was – it was so much blood. So much blood. Steve remembered something about the thigh, from biology, something about important veins, or maybe one important vein? That if you nicked it you could bleed out, real easy. 

“Wh-what? Sewing kit? You want to, to, to, to what? Suture it?” He realized he was maybe half yelling, in a panic. He was already unbuckling his own belt, fingers tripping over themselves.

***

“Sorry, sorry, it’s getting—I know how to get it out, I can get it out,” Billy said frantically, focused on the blood he was trailing, eyes wide but not over the injury. “I can—if you have seltzer, I’ll fix it and then I’ll fix my leg.”

The air was more than charged now, some whirling fucking maelstrom of stress between the both of them, like they couldn’t get on the same page. He tried to die his down but it was hard because he was still trying not to look too much at his leg. He took a deep breath and made himself look, made himself stand for a second to push his jeans down and off until he was just in briefs and socks. Then he put the jeans under him so nothing would get on the couch, watching the blood run down his leg but sure it wasn’t deep enough to be bad bad. 

“Need to sew it, it won’t take me very long. I’ll fix the carpet, please just bring me a kit and then you—can yell at me or whatever you need to do.”

***

“I’m not yelling!” Steve yelled. He tried to suck in a breath, pinching at his nose, trying to breathe, then continued sliding his belt out of the loops.  
“Oh my god you, you,” – don’t say psycho, don’t say crazy – “you seriously – think – I don’t care about the CARPET! I care about YOU! You’re bleeding, I’m worried about you! You need a doctor, not a sewing kit! I don’t understand…understand why you won’t go to the hospital! This is BAD.” Steve gasped. “How did this even happen? How could he do this? Do you not see – “ 

Steve felt something almost hysterical bubble up in his throat and had to strangle it down – because Billy was saying he was gonna fix the carpet first, THEN his leg? Th-the fuck? How could he think so little of himself, over something like carpet?

Steve got Billy’s back pushed up against the couch and he looped his belt around his thigh above the gash – leather on bare skin – and he knotted it off, TIGHT, because there was no notch that high up to use the buckle. He knew the belt was possibly overkill, but he didn’t care. Better safe than sorry. He also tugged his t-shirt off, over his head, and stuffed it over the wound - pressing down. It was sodden under his fingers, fast. Too fast.

“Don’t you fucking take that belt off. And press down on this - okay? Hard. You – stay there. Don’t, don’t move, I’m getting it, hang on – hang on – “ Steve rushed away from him in a flurry of movement, making his crazy eyes, and ran upstairs – taking them two at a time. He dug around in his mom’s drawer until he found her sewing basket and he also grabbed the first aid kit out of the bathroom, and a bottle of Bactine, with bandages. He knew, distantly, that Billy was possibly in shock from it - and that was why he was going on about carpet and shit. Acting like this was nothing. Steve didn’t know what to do for shock.

***

Billy did as he was told, both hands pressing hard down on his leg even though it didn’t feel like much at all. He could hear Steve rustling around upstairs, the sounds of cabinets opening and things falling out and couldn’t help but feel guilty. He tried to remember Steve saying he cared about him and not about the carpet but that was hard too, every nerve sort of tingling and distracting him. 

When he saw Steve come back with a basket and a first aid kit in his hand he was relieved, hadn’t even thought about a first aid kit even though that was always the first fucking thing he thought about. His hands were off his leg and reaching for what Steve had in his arms in an instant, rifling through until he found bactine, a needle, and some thick looking thread. It would have to do. 

“My light—here it is, can you,” he said, stuttered really, handing his lighter to Steve. “Just burn the needle for a few seconds, can you thread it? Please?”

He took those few seconds to move the shirt—Steve’s shirt, he thought distantly—and spray his leg. It didn’t go well. He gritted his teeth and didn’t let the sound slip past his mouth, lips pressed together tightly. Fuck that hurt. 

***

Steve knelt at Billy’s side by the couch, taking over pressing down on the shirt while Billy rifled around in everything, biting at his lip until it hurt. When the shirt moved, Steve held onto it, fingers convulsing in the wet fabric, making it ooze red – this up close to his leg, visually, it made him feel a little nauseous. He’d never seen a wound like that, actually. What the hell even did something like that? 

He tossed the shirt aside on the coffee table after Billy’s request – “I’m washing my hands first.” 

He took the lighter and needle from Billy, and disappeared into the kitchen. He reappeared with a freshly laundered towel, clinically clean hands, and had rinsed off the needle and lighter for good measure – they’d been dirtied with blood from Billy’s hands. He shooed Billy’s hands away, his face twisted in concentration. He flicked open the lighter and burned the end of the silver needle, burned it until it turned black and the end glowed like an ember. Then he snapped the lighter closed and tossed it aside. 

“I’m doing this, you’re in no shape.” Steve snapped – it wasn’t at Billy, it was at the situation. He threaded the needle with steady hands, whereas Billy’s hands were trembling. “Shit, Billy…” Steve mumbled, more to himself than to his boyfriend. “Shit, I told you to tell Hop…I knew it, I just…I knew it…I asked you about next time, about what if, what if it was worse….this is worse….” He twisted off a knot at the end of the thread. “This could have killed you.”

***

Billy watched the flame hit the needle and tried to focus on it instead of what was about to happen, but the second Steve’s voice raised and cracked like a whip all those plates he’d been spinning slipped and fell. They cracked into a million pieces because they weren’t made of anything sturdy, flimsy, shitty China that disintegrated the second it bumped anything. He heard I told you and I asked you and there’s a reason why we left California and get out. 

He flinched before he froze up and his vision swam and blurred, eyes dropping to his hands. They were hanging limply between his legs and were covered in blood, trembling even if the rest of him had completely locked up. His leg was starting to hurt and his jaw was starting to ache from wiring it shut himself, shoulders hunched up to his ears even though Neil hated that. 

***

Steve glanced up at him, and his mouth snapped shut. When he saw the look on Billy’s face – shoulders drawn up around his ears, looking totally shut down, Steve sighed and a muscle in his cheek jumped as he clenched his jaw so hard it ached. 

His throat was so tight with nerves he couldn’t even swallow, it felt like he was choking. Billy could have died and Steve had known when he left the arcade, known something bad would happen and there had been nothing he could do but, what – pace around his living room and worry? Billy could have died tonight. And Steve hadn’t done anything.

Steve leaned forward, carefully, his hand moving very slowly towards Billy to soothe his hand over Billy’s cheek – thumb scraping over the faint stubble there. Moving slowly enough that he knew the movement was coming.

“Hey – hey, baby – look at me. I’m, I’m sorry, okay? I just. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m way out of my depth here. I’m not – mad at you, okay? I’m pissed at your dad. Because this is so fucked up. I’m not mad at you. I love you. I love you so much, and you’re just – you’re just a sitting duck over there. God I love you and I don’t want you hurt.” 

***

It took a few tries but Billy looked, kept his eyes on Steve’s face like some kind of challenge to himself. I love you relaxed his jaw more and more each time he heard it, staring straight at Steve’s mouth to make sure he caught everything. He squeezed his eyes shut when it was done and remembered the night they fought, doing the same thing only he didn’t want to wreck anything, he didn’t want to throw his keys across the room. He just wanted to wipe at his cheeks but his hands were too dirty. 

“I just keep thinking he’s—I just want him to like me, just once,” he said, eyes opening to search Steve’s like he might have some sort of answer even with that familiar shame crawling over him like invisible bugs. “I don’t wanna upend everything, I just wanna see it through and maybe he’ll—maybe when I’m graduated he will. Maybe he will then.”

***

Steve was quiet for a moment, absorbing what Billy was saying, dark eyes searching those brilliant blue ones, hazy with tears, when he finally focused on him. He really had to think about what he wanted to say before he said it.

“…why? Why do you need him to like you?” Steve asked softly. “Do you remember, what I said – that dad’s can be bad people, too? It’s true. And sweetheart, this is bad. Don’t you want good people in your life? People that love you for who you are? That don’t hurt you? It always seems like he wants you to be something, someone, else. But even then, it’s never enough for him. How can you do that if he’s always changing the standards? I love you just as you are. I wouldn’t want you to change for the world. Time doesn’t usually change these things. Time doesn’t always change people. Maybe, maybe things need to be upended. Look – I know, right? I understand. What it is when they don’t, don’t see you as what they want you to be. But that doesn’t mean you need to change, in order for them to like you better. I’m sure he loves you in his own way. But this is dangerous. And sometimes, certain kinds of love can be toxic.” 

***

Billy didn’t know what to tell Steve, tried to maybe stay quiet a minute instead. Steve loved him and—as he was? Like this? Crazy and bleeding all over Steve’s nice house? Loving his dad even though he hated him. Steve didn’t want him to change, just wanted him safe. All the plates were broken and he was still, still trying to sweep it up. For what? 

“I-my, my leg. Can you fix my leg?” he asked, the pain bringing him a little closer to the present, eyes falling on the blood running down his thigh, down his calf. “Then I’ll—I don’t know. I don’t know, I’m sorry, my head’s static.”

***

“Ah fuck. Yeah. Sorry.” Steve wiped up Billy’s leg with the towel. Then he gripped the other side of his thigh with his left hand to steady it, brace it, and then started in with the right – holding the needle with deft fingers. “Just…brace yourself.” 

It wasn’t like moving a needle through fabric. There wasn’t as much give to flesh and muscle, and it wasn’t the kind of hooked needle Steve had seen in TV shows like M*A*S*H when they did stitches, so it was a lot more difficult to get it angled up through the curve of his thigh. Steve was focusing, telling himself it wasn’t what it was. It wasn’t a leg, and it wasn’t Billy, and he wasn’t the one doing it. It was like the fabric that his mom had showed him how to sew when he was younger, until his dad found out about it and put a stop to it when he’d turned twelve. 

He pulled the thread back and tugged a little to get the edges pulled together, tightening the thread enough before he looped back around. He couldn’t look up and he couldn’t look at Billy and he was completely shutting himself down to finish it. 

***

Billy watched Steve work like a fucking hawk, the pain far off and hardly touching him at all. He’d stitched himself up before, just not this bad. Not that he would tell Steve that. He didn’t know how much he was going to tell or show Steve ever again, not when this was the result. Not when all he’d done was add another person to the list of people disappointed in his choices, upset because of him. 

“I know what you want me to do, and—I can’t,” he said, each word measured and slow, moving like the tide. “I’m not eighteen so I don’t have anywhere to go and—Steve, there are laws. They’re not in my favor. It’s not like I haven’t looked, I’ve looked. I’ve tried before. But Steve, the child ab—the laws, they’re still there. Nothing can fix them, you can’t fix them.”

***

“I know that. I know there are laws.” Steve said as he sewed up Billy’s skin like the curtain he’d once helped make when his mom had considered Interior Decorating as a hobbyto dabble in. “And I know that it’s impossible. I know that, okay? I’m not an idiot. I talked to hop about it – without – telling him why. Or who. But that’s the thing, what I’m, what I’m trying to tell you.”

Steve got to the end of the gash, all neatly laced together with uneven stitches. He tied it off at the end, and tried to focus on not throwing up. It was just like the drapery. Nothing more. 

“Hop doesn’t…just…” Hopper didn’t work inside of the law, always. 

Steve sighed, clipping the thread with tiny scissors from the first aid kit. He slumped down onto his ass, numbly spraying bactine over the jagged line – leaning in to gently blow on it to soothe the burn. He blinked, his eyes growing unfocused on Billy’s thigh while he loosened the makeshift tourniquet. Undoing the belt. 

“Nevermind.” Steve said quietly. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair of me to ask you to, to try and do something, to change anything.” 

He knew Billy’s hands were as tied as Steve’s. But if he’d just say something, Hopper could…Hopper could what? What was he even gonna do? Even if he moved outside of the law or whatever like Steve was so sure he would, what then? What was he gonna do to stop an asshole like Neil Hargrove? Steve turned his face away from Billy, gaze drifting aimlessly. He’d never felt so helpless. It washed over him like a wave, felt like he couldn't breathe. Suffocating him.

He could save the world from hoards of monsters, but he couldn’t save Billy from just one. 

***

“Get him then,” Billy blurted out, blinking rapidly at himself before he spoke again. “Just do it. Just—before I change my mind. Just do it.”

He always called it a windup. That feeling he’d get when he was spitting mad or backed into a corner. Something manic would spread through every muscle, every vein, every nerve. It was the sort of feeling that had him picking on the biggest guy he could find, sometimes goading Neil into a fight. Just to prove that everything was hateful and painful and that he was right. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about his broken wrist in California or the word fag ringing in his ears. He might’ve really been fucking losing it but he was on a tear, stomping on the plates instead of trying to pick them up now, fingers shaking all over again as he tried to put his jeans on. Put them on over the stitches his boyfriend had done after his father fucking sliced him. 

***

Steve blinked right back at him, staring up in shock from where he was still kneeling on the carpet. His lost look became more cautious – wary, really. In any other instance, those words coming out of Billy’s mouth would have given him hope. But the way he was looking, sort of - too bright, too sharp – they just…didn’t. It felt like more of a challenge than an actual acceptance of help. Steve wasn’t even sure of what to make of it. But right in the middle of his chest he was feeling really, really low. 

And he could tell that – especially once Billy left, that it was gonna start morphing into one of those periods of time when he really got into a slump. He could feel it coming on. Really, he thought it had started when Billy’d gotten the dislocated shoulder, and it had been harried earlier at the arcade, but now it was really starting to drag him down, underwater. So he made a face, his tongue darting out of his mouth as he looked around almost desperately – like there was someone else there to help. He needed help. They both did.

“Okay. Okay I will. I will.” Steve stood up fast, so fast it kind of made him dizzy – because he’d been getting sort of nauseous dragging a needle through flesh, and he padded quickly away from Billy into the kitchen to snatch the phone out of the cradle. 

***

Billy got his jeans back on with a bit of difficulty and a sharp hiss of pain, one he barely let through his teeth. He could hear Steve on the phone and tried to shut it out, angry and sick to his stomach and guilty all at once for reasons he couldn’t get a grip on. His leg hurt like a motherfucker but he busied himself cleaning up, folding up the bloody towel and shirt like they were newly pressed or some shit, putting everything back into its proper spot in the sewing basket and first aid kit with still shaking hands. 

He startled at the doorbell even if he’d known it was coming. He was mostly surprised so much time had passed, that he’d more or less tidied everything without even noticing Steve had gotten off the phone or where he’d gone after, if he’d even spoken to him. That made the guilt turn an entirely new fucking level of sour, had him going to the sink to wet a new towel, kneeling on the carpet and furiously scrubbing. Like that might mean he hadn’t agreed to Hopper coming over, that he hadn’t bled on Steve’s floor, put that miserable look on his face. 

***

Steve tried talking to Billy. He tried to get him to sit back down. He tried to get him to rest, take a breath. But nothing worked and he didn’t actually think Billy knew he was there. He wondered if he was still in shock. He had absolutely no idea. So Steve’d waited. He’d started pacing the living room as Billy obsessive compulsively cleaned everything up even though Steve’d told him he shouldn’t be on that leg, he should be lying down dammit, he just got waved off. Steve’s arms were crossed across his chest so tight they ached and he was pacing the living room like a caged animal, practically wearing a path into the carpeting. 

Then Billy was seriously cleaning the carpet. 

“Are you – seriously Billy, please, just sit down? You don’t need to do that – dammit – “ Steve wrapped his hands up into his hair and clenched his eyes shut, choking on air because he didn’t know what to do. It was like Billy was on some other planet. “C’mon, baby, please?” No reply.

Finally, the doorbell rang. Thank fucking god. Steve stepped carefully around Billy on the floor, getting to the door as fast as he could. 

Hop was waiting on the other side, looking tired and irritated at being woken up at night by Steve – again. 

“Alright. Where is he?” Hopper asked.

Steve nodded his head over one shoulder, holding the door open for the Chief. “He’s uh, he’s in the living room.”

Hopper sidestepped Steve as he passed through the foyer, with Harrington on his heels, adjusting the big wide-brimmed hat on his head – dark eyes falling on Billy, scurrying over the carpet, scrubbing at blood stains. Hop’s eyebrows rose up just a hair.

“Hey, kid.” The words came out slow. Careful.

***

Billy’s head snapped up and he finally stopped scrubbing, just a quick glance down to see that he’d gotten most of it up and out of Steve’s pretty carpet. He sat back on his heels, bloody towel in one twitching hand, and put his claws in. For Steve. Because they loved each other—they still did, they had to. 

“If you’re underage and you get pulled out of an unfit environment, where do you go? If you have no blood relatives or other related adults with steady incomes?” he said instantly, though once he started he couldn’t really stop. “What-What if it’s shit that can’t be proved? What if they have a record of—of smoothing things over with police before? What if they’re almost eighteen, if it’s just a month away? They can’t do anything then, can they? They don’t-you can’t prove someone’s hungry or—or woken up at 4 to do drills or-or clean the bathroom with a toothbrush. You can’t prove it.”

He looked over at Steve with wild eyes filled to the brim with tears, ones he was too exhausted to fight but too stubborn to let fall. Steve looked worn down, he’d worn him down. He did that. 

“Tell him,” he said, looking at Hopper again, something pleading on his face. “Tell him you can’t prove it.”

***

Hopper took a long, deep breath – he’d suspected. Closer to he’d ‘known.’ He’d really been hoping that the Hargrove boy would’ve taken his offer to come to him. Talk to him. Because it’s one thing he needed – verbal confirmation. He couldn’t go acting on other people’s word, especially if he was going to do something that skirted the line. He needed to be sure. 

Jim studied the Hargrove boy – took in everything – those tear bright eyes, the desperation, the nasty, bloody stain that streaked down the left leg of his jeans. Jim had sharp eyes. He saw the unpracticed, ragged stitches hiding there, the skin angry and red around what he suspected was spool thread. 

Hopper took each question in stride, remaining silent – he wasn’t really given the chance to answer anything in time, as they came out more like a flood. The demand, at the end, to tell Harrington. To prove it to him.

He settled into the armchair close to Hargrove – making himself smaller. He knew he was a big man, a gruff man, and he knew he could be threatening if given the chance. He took off his hat to help the situation, plopping it down on the arm of the seat.

“When was the last time you ate, Billy?” He asked, specifically switching to his first name for familiarity. For comfort. “The last time you drank something? C’mon – let’s get you off the floor. Why don’t you have a seat and talk with me. Harrington? Can you grab your guest here something light, Gatorade if you have it.” 

Steve was ogling Billy at his flood of questions, at his need to prove it to Steve – that nothing could be done, nothing could be done, but Steve already knew that. He knew. But this was Hopper. Steve glanced wildly at Hopper at the instructions, and he nodded – slowly – before eyeing Billy and he slipped away to the kitchen to grab a grape Gatorade out of the fridge and something light, some applesauce with a spoon. By the time he got back out to the living room, Hopper was waiting for Billy to have a seat – he didn’t reach out to him, though – he let him get up on his own. Seemed to know better than to touch Billy at the time. 

And Hop didn’t match Billy’s level of anxiety, his current cranked up almost hysterics – he was this calm, steady rock, like Steve knew him to be. He oozed calm. And he waited patiently for Billy to get off the floor. Steve actually tucked himself close to Billy to help him up, offering the Gatorade and applesauce cup like an olive branch. 

***

Billy took the sorely needed opportunity to touch Steve, clinging to his arm for just a second or two longer than necessary as he settled shakily onto the couch. He wanted to do a lot more than that, maybe make Steve lay down so he could curl up against him, ask him to touch his face for a minute, but he couldn’t. All he could do was savor those few seconds. 

He let Steve hand him what he’d carried in and opened the Gatorade with shaking hands, wondering if they’d ever fucking stop doing that. The food, simple as it was, was a little harder for him to get himself to eat, his stomach churning. 

“I can’t remember,” he answered both questions, found it true as it left his mouth. His face heated up but he kept eye contact with Hopper, something deeply ingrained that told him to always look a man in the eye. He wanted to do that with Steve instead, say I’m sorry and I’m so tired. “I don’t know.”

***

After Steve got Billy settled, he actually sat himself down on the sofa alongside him – pressing his thigh against Billy’s for the physical contact, for the extra weight, an embodiment of support. 

Hopper noted the touch, filed it away – it was interesting, how close they’d become, because just last fall he’d known that Hargrove had beat Harrington’s face in the night the gate closed. And honestly, after Jim had started looking into some of the Hargrove boy’s past – several states over – well, it was answering a lot of questions. Like that night. And basically a lot of occurrences since their move to sleepy old Hawkins. He had to be kidding himself if he considered this is a sleepy town anymore.

Jim met Billy steadily eye for eye, his own face a relaxed composure to help put the kid at ease – even with the tension washing off of the boy in waves.

“Alright,” he nodded like it didn’t come as a surprise. “I want you to eat that, and then we’ll talk. Sip that gatorade. Alright? And I’ll answer your questions.” 

***

Billy nodded back and finally let his eyes move to the things he was holding in his hands. He handed the applesauce to Steve while he worked on the Gatorade, a little more difficult of a task than he’d thought it would be. His anxiety was still cranked up and he had to grip his good leg with his free hand as he drank, throat muscles spasming and making swallowing a fucking monumental task. He tried to focus on Steve’s leg touching his own, even let their shoulders rest together like an afterthought. It was anything but one. 

He reached for the applesauce when his hands had stopped trembling so badly, downing half of the barely opened jar in just a few minutes. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed or if he was making everyone wait too long, a lump in his throat as he looked over at Steve. 

Is it okay? Am I going to be fine? Are you staying right there? Those were the questions he hoped his face was asking, eyes big and imploring but his mouth too scared to actually say them. 

***

Steve leaned into Billy to act as a comforting weight, not really caring if Hopper thought it was weird or whatever. He just wanted to make sure Billy was okay, but Steve also felt better equipped to handle what was happening with the Chief here. Like his calm was infectious and, well, honestly just – having an adult around that knew what was going on really seemed to help. Because he trusted Hop would know what to do, and that everything would be okay. Steve gave Billy a small, strained smile at that look he was giving him with big, mournful blue eyes, reaching out to gently pat his leg – the good one – like a silent reassurance.  
“It’ll be okay.” Steve said. “You’ll see. Hop’ll know what to do. Whether it can be proved or not.”

Once Jim saw that Billy had downed most of the applesauce and was working away at the Gatorade, getting his blood sugar up, belly with something in it, he scrubbed a hand over his scruff of a beard, then smoothed his hair back. He looked at Billy for a long time, contemplating exactly what he wanted to say – a soft look easing over his normally brusque features.

Hopper slid his pack of Marlboros out of his pocket and tamped one out into his palm, focusing on the task at hand of lighting up, and taking a long drag. He was thinking about the pen and pad of paper in his jacket pocket – the one for citations or for reports. He didn’t take it out.

“There. You feelin’ a little better? Full belly can do a world of wonders.” 

***

“Yeah, I—yeah, I guess so,” Billy said, watching Hop light a cigarette and thinking of his own lighter, wondering if it still had blood on it or if Steve had cleaned it off when he was zoning out. 

He looked at Steve’s hand, the one that had touched his leg briefly and wished it was still there. Steve had looked so earnest that it sort of rubbed off on him, even if it was just a little bit. He delicately placed the Gatorade and the rest of the applesauce on the coffee table, staring at the now light pink blood stain on the white carpet before looking up at Hopper. Hoping he had something to say, or that Billy could prove it once and for all that there was nothing for them to do. 

***

Hopper lifted serious eyes now, meeting Billy eye for eye again – he knew looking someone in the eye could be intimidating. But it was also a sign of trust. Of truth. 

“Good. Now. Wish you’d come and talked to me – before it got to this.” He gestured a little with the cigarette towards Billy’s fucked up leg. “But it is what it is. You called me now, and that’s what matters.” 

Hop leaned over to tap some ash into the crystal ashtray on the coffee table, his gaze trailing over the sewing basket and first aid kit. A discarded Zippo. Then came back up to Billy, like a magnet to metal. 

“I had a feeling. Gut feeling. Whatever you wanna call it. Looked a little into your history, back in Cali.” Hop sighed, breathing out a breath of smoke. “You’ve had a time of it, kid. If you know what you’re looking for, you see it. Now, is that proof? Maybe. Maybe not. But I know what to look for.” 

Hopper leaned back in the armchair, folding his hands over his belly, a relaxed, easy gesture. Like they were talking like old friends over coffee.

“My old man was a mean sunofabitch, see. Part of why I ended up shipping out to the war right after graduation. To get away. And I know what to look for.” Hopper’s eyes were boring right back into Billy’s, still with a relaxed slope to his shoulders. Like he was talking about the weather. 

“I worked in this big city precinct, after that, while back. Came back home after - wasn’t too impressed. ‘Cause I know how big city cops work. I’m guessing Chicago’s pretty similar to your blue boys back out West. Half of them crooked, the rest don’t give a damn.” Hopper blew smoke out of his nose. “I ain’t that.” 

***

Billy looked at Hopper and maybe saw someone familiar—some kindred spirit or some shit. He thought maybe if he looked at him long enough he could see the anger he had in himself, that poison that coiled in his gut so often, only it seemed almost dormant in the man in front of him. He’d even considered the military instead of college, sort of surprised to hear Hopper say it. 

“Thought about enlisting,” he said finally, plucking at the rip in his jeans. Maybe it would make the next part easier to say, if he was careful. “Applied to a couple colleges but haven’t gotten letters back. Don’t think I’m gonna go anyway, Max—someone’s got to stick around.”

***

Steve flinched beside him, glancing at him in shock – wait, enlisting? Like, going away to join the military, army whatever? He glanced at Billy out of the corner of his eye, but he stayed quiet, - he didn’t really feel like a part of his conversation. This felt more like something that was between Hopper and Billy. Steve had kind of sort of known that about Hopper – everybody in town knew – it was a small town and people gossiped. But Steve hadn’t known if it was really true. It was so long ago, way before his time. But now he guessed he did. 

For Jim, it felt a little like looking in a mirror at his much younger self. Back when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, even when he was always getting kicked down into the shit and mud – when he’d worn a leather jacket and made eyes at Joyce Byers like it could be something more. But he could never connect with her properly, with what was going on at home, and then he’d graduated and just…fucked off. It’d been a long time ‘till he could ever go back to Hawkins. After Sarah died. After his family fell apart. Once his dad was dead and buried, in a grave that nobody ever visited in the Hopper plot.

Jim shook his head a little. “Not worth it. Trust me on that one. It’s a fool's errand, if they’re not drafting, no reason to do it. It’ll just make how you’re feeling worse. I promise you that. I’ve been there.” 

Not that there was a war going right now, but things happened. And yeah, killing people – killing men – it made it worse. The black feeling inside. 

“If you hear back from those colleges, they take you? You do it. Learn your shit. Then you use it to make things better for people who aren’t so lucky. I’ve heard from Max that you’re a smart kid. Use it. As for her – and for your step-mom – you let me worry about that. Harrington’s not wrong. I’m gonna fix this. I just need you to say it. That’s it. Because this is my town – and this shit doesn’t happen in my town. I don’t give a damn about proof or not. I’ll take you on your word.” 

***

“It doesn’t happen every day—hitting. I think my leg was an accident, he threw a plate at my head and I crawled out the window. I couldn’t tell you what every single one was for, it’s not always the same or in the same way, it’s—“

He stopped for a second because he could more than feel Steve’s eyes on him now, fixed his gaze to a point just to the right of Hopper’s face and swallowed. 

“He grinds my face into things a lot, mostly the ground. I got caught sneaking leftovers at night when I was eleven so I got my face in that instead, only really eat when I help cook at home now. He, uh—cut a lot of my hair off when I was little and I think I probably have scars on my neck but I can never see them. He wakes me up in the middle of the night a few days a week, makes me hold books for hours or scrub the tiles until the—I don’t know, the cleaning shit rubs my fingers raw. Always tells me how much he hates me, calls me stupid a lot—“

He sunk into the couch a little then, frowned down at his hands again but they were blurry. 

“I can keep going I just—I need a second.”

***

Steve did stare. For a long time, his throat working. He reached out and did hold hands with Billy then – didn’t care if Hopper was there. He held on tight and squeezed that hand, finding that it still trembled beneath his own, just like earlier.

Jim held up a hand as the boy’s eyes started to blur out with tears, really he’d been easing forward to already stop him, but it seemed to just rush out of Billy like water, or like poison. Spitting it out to stop himself from drowning.

“Hey, hey. Kid.” Jim said softly, shaking his head a little. “It’s alright. Not tryin’ to make you revisit anythin’, alright? You don’t gotta say anything you don’t want to. I just needed a yes. A confirmation. This is that and then some. You don’t gotta work yourself up. Alright? It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Sounds like he’s a creative sonuvabitch.” 

Hopper scowled on that last sentence, glancing away and taking a particularly hard draw off the filter, which was already down to the nub. He snuffed it out in the tray like it had offended him. He looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Damn.” Jim said softly, gaze drifting. It’d been going on right under his nose.

He leaned forward a little, getting a little more of that look he got when he was in the office – when he needed to get the pertinent details. So he knew what he needed to get done. “What about the others in your family? Is it just you?” 

***

Billy audibly sighed when Steve’s hand found his, lips parted on the sound but still keeping his eyes open to ward off any tears from falling. He was thankful that Hopper was telling him to stop, that it was okay even if it was difficult to believe. Creative was a massive fucking understatement. Then came a question that he dreaded hearing, guilt swamping him again for someone else, someone not even here. 

“I—Susan, I think she’s scared,” he said, voice small like maybe neither of them would hear him, that he wouldn’t have said it. “I’ve never seen Neil do anything but sometimes she’ll—she walks really careful sometimes. Stiff. I know what it means, I remember my mom—she moved like that.”

Then the tears were impossible to stop, visions of his mother and all the wars that he couldn’t help her. The same exact ways he wasn’t helping Susan now. His fingers were gripping onto Steve like a lifeline, his whole body shuddering with it. He was wailing like he had in Steve’s car that fucking terrible day, sucked right down into that black hole that always threatened to swallow him. 

***

Hopper winced at the implications and nodded. Nodded because yeah, yeah he understood. It was a little eerie – almost – the similarities between this kid and Jim when he was young. He eased himself up out of the armchair.

Steve had wrapped his other arm around Billy’s back and was rubbing it, forehead braced against his temple as he made soothing noises, trying to help calm Billy down.

Hopper settled on the sofa alongside Billy, opposite side as Harrington. He knew he was a big man, and could be considered threatening – so he moved slowly and he moved with care, enough that Billy’d be able to know when he was moving and what he was doing. 

“I know kid. I know. C’mere.” 

Steve didn’t release Billy’s hand as Hop pulled Billy into a gruff, one sided hug, getting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him against his uniformed chest – clapping one hand against his other shoulder, giving him this big bear hug from one side. He propped his chin up on top of Billy’s head, blinking up at the ceiling. Rubbing one hand up and down Billy’s upper arm like he might be cold or something, even if that wasn’t it. 

“’s alright. You’re okay. You did good, having Steve call me. I’m gonna fix it. For all of you, Susan too. Gonna make it better. You don’t need to go through this anymore.”

***

The affection was so overwhelming that Billy thought he might burst right out of his skin. He’d wanted this for his entire life since his mother died, a set of adult arms around him telling him he didn’t have to worry anymore. That he wasn’t supposed to try to balance everything all at once by himself. Steve was on his other side and so close he could feel him breathing against him while he cried, body curling up into his seat but—not away from anyone, not this time. 

“I’m tired, I tried,” he sobbed, pressing his face into the broad chest underneath it, free arm up to his own. “I got-I got really good at it. I’d get Max to help me steal food and not tell her what I was—I knew where to sleep in the Camaro and everybody still liked me and I still get good grades and I knew when to sneak back in but I’m tired. I don’t wanna go home. Please don’t make me go home.”

***

Steve kept his head tucked against Billy’s, holding one of Billy’s hands with both of his, while Hopper kept him wrapped up from the other side like this big, steady rock. Rubbing over Billy’s arm, and keeping him pulled up close in that ferocious hug. 

“I know you’re tired. You don’t gotta be anymore. You don’t have to go back.” Hop said, and his throat felt tight at what Billy was saying – the habits and coping mechanisms he’d developed to survive the situation that he never should have been in in the first place. And really, really this is why Jim became a cop. To help people that were in these situations, law be damned. The tears that were dampening the chest of his uniform were a reminder of that.

“I want you to sleep here tonight. Alright? You sleep here, and in the morning, everything will look better. I’m gonna work something out for you, and I’m gonna go over and talk to Susan. Everything’ll look better in the morning. You did good. Know you tried real hard - but everything’s gonna start lookin’ up.” 

***

Billy nodded, more than happy the second that staying away from that place was offered to him. He couldn’t really talk for a minute, desperately trying to catch his breath and hang onto what Hopper was saying. The way he was hugging him was almost-it was like a dad should hug their kid, even if he wasn’t his. He pictured Hopper showing up at his house and breaking the news, talking to Susan when something alarming popped into his head. 

“I’ve—there’s stuff hidden, in my room. It’s important and stuff like letters, things of my mom’s, pictures of hers,” he said suddenly, going a little still in the hold of the people on either side of him. “It’s up under the baseboards of my bed, someone’s gotta get them. Neil, he’s gonna trash my room, I know it.”

***

“I can get it.” Steve said, stirring in his position alongside Billy. Rubbing the one hand over Billy’s where it was sandwiched between his two. “Can go over while your dad’s at work, and get everything you need. So you don’t have to worry about going back.”

Something like relief was washing over Steve – loosening his limbs where they’d started to lock up, making it feel like he could breathe again. That helpless feeling that had been choking him was easing up. He’d known Hopper could help, he’d known it in his bones, and he was so fucking grateful. He looked up over the side of Billy’s head, where Hopper’s chin was still propped up atop Billy’s crown of curls.

“Thanks, Hop.” He murmured.

Hop winked back at him, not loosening his hold on Billy, but nodding a little. A tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks for calling. ” 

***

That night Billy hadn’t slept very well despite this sort of new found relaxation in his bones. He still worried about what might happen when Hopper arrived at the Hargrove house and since he wasn’t there all he could do was picture it. Sleep only came once the clock blared 4:00 in his vision, Steve’s arms still as tight around him as they’d been when he’s finally let himself be laid down. 

He woke up to an empty bed and a cold dent in the mattress where Steve had been up behind him. He wasn’t worried, just confused because Steve usually slept like the dead around him. Something like yesterday happening could probably make anyone a little restless though. Not every day you had to stitch your boyfriend up or get a cop to finally pull him out of the muck. 

The jeans had been thrown away the second he’d taken them off to sleep, more at Steve’s demand than any actual request. He rifled through the dresser drawers until he found a pair of sweats not that different from the ones he’d worn last time, slipping one of Steve’s undershirts on for good measure and discarding the shirt from the night before. Something about anxiety made sweat turn sour, like your whole body was sick with it, and he hoped it could be the last time he recognized it. 

“Steve?” he called, poking his head out of the bedroom. When there was no answer he made his way downstairs, found that empty too along with no bmw in the driveway. 

The kitchen, however, was full. Not with people but with food, the kind he was more than welcome to eat, anytime, seriously. He was starving, honestly, non discriminatory about what chip bag or cracker box he jammed his hand inside. When he looked in the freezer there was ice cream and Jesus he hadn’t had that in a long fucking time, started eating it right out of the carton. 

***

Steve nudged the front door open with his hip, arms full of cardboard box. He shuffled into the foyer and shut the door behind him with the heel of his Nike – pausing when he heard someone in the kitchen. His timing was perfect – he must’ve gotten back just as Billy had woken up, and it had been the last load from the car. He set the box down on top of another one near the stairs, and toed his shoes off by the front door. 

“Morning, babe.” Steve called as he shrugged out of his jacket and headed into the kitchen. He paused in absolute delight when he caught sight of Billy’s face – he had chocolate smeared around the edges of his mouth like a little kid, the culprit a carton of chocolate ice cream in his hands that Steve usually kept around for the kids on movie night. And now, apparently, Billy. 

“Breakfast of champions?” Steve smiled at him, padding across the kitchen linoleum to lean in and gently swipe a thumb over the corner of Billy’s mouth – cleaning some of the chocolate away, only to pop it into his own mouth. 

***

“Mhm, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Billy said, digging in for one last giant spoonful and shoving it into his mouth. “Steve, I need you to always have this here.”

He got to thinking about where he’d go next, if he had anywhere to go. He knew that Steve would let him stay as long as he wanted and even Hopper wanted him to, but there was still some part of him that didn’t want to be inconvenient. He put the ice cream away and rushed into Steve for a hug instead of letting himself worry too much about it, arms around his shoulders and his chin atop one of them. 

“Thanks, Steve,” he said quietly, turning his face into Steve’s hair and taking a good, long breath in. “You think it’ll go alright today, Hopper going over there? Where were you anyway?”

***

Steve laughed, and it eased some of the tension that he’d been carrying in the center of his chest – not all the way, but a little. He slipped his arms around Billy’s waist as he caught Steve up in a hug, all arms and smelling sweet as sugar from all the ice cream. “Okay, I will.” He hummed, nosing at Billy’s hair and sighing against the dangle of his earring. “Just let me know your favorite flavor and I’ll buy it next time I go shopping. Unless it’s chocolate, and then I’ll just get that. Dustin will be thrilled you have that in common.” 

Steve shifted a little on his feet at the next question, tightening his arms unconsciously around Billy’s waistline. “I think he’s already been there – I was just there, to get your stuff. I think I got everything – nobody was there, so I went in through your window. But I dunno – when I was leaving, I glanced in Max’s room, and – there’s stuff missing from there too. And other places.” Steve said slowly, like he was dropping a bomb but trying to be careful about it. 

***

Billy pulled back but only enough to look at Steve’s face, arms exactly where he put them, maybe even tightening a little. He was warm, more than warm over Steve grabbing his things for him but the idea of things in the house gave him pause, had him snowballing right into the negative. 

“Did it look bad? Like things were broken?” he asked quickly, taking in another deep breath because he didn’t want to move away, didn’t want anything about this part to change. “I—did Max get to school today? Can we find out?”

***

“I called you and me in sick, but I didn’t check on the kids – I can radio Dustin, he always has that headset of his. But no, nothing looked broken. It looked – packed up, like moved.” 

Steve lifted a hand from around Billy’s waist to sooth his knuckles over his rough cheek, in a sweeping gesture from his cheekbone down to his chin. “I’m sure it’s fine. I think H+opper was there – he said he was going to do something, right? So he must’ve done it. Want me to radio them? Or call Hop?” 

***

Billy closed his eyes briefly at the touch, hands moving up the back of Steve’s head. It felt like it had been ages since they’d gotten to be close like this, life getting in the fucking way, giving them just brief moments to brush by or—sew somebody up. Steve was offering him yet another solution to his worries and he’d take it, this time without stubbornness. 

“Could you? Right now?” he asked, leaning his cheek into Steve’s knuckles, turning his head to give them a kiss. “Just so I know? I just don’t want anything...bad to have happened because of me.”

***

“Of course – I’m sure everything is alright, okay? But I’ll check and make sure. Wait here, okay? Finish eating – there’s also cereal in the pantry. I’ll be right back.” Steve couldn’t help but allow a gentle smile to spread over his mouth as Billy kissed at his knuckles – the way he could be so sweet, so endearing, with such a simple gesture. Steve leaned in like there was a gravitational force within Billy that drew him in, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry.” He reluctantly removed himself from their embrace to head upstairs. 

He was gone for about ten minutes.

When he came down he was rubbing at the side of his cheek and looking a little distracted, a wrinkle across his nose as he thought. He searched out Billy in the kitchen, grabbing the coffee to start making a pot. “Okay!” He said while he busied himself with grabbing two mugs and arranging creamer and sugar on the counter while the coffee maker started to percolate. “I got a hold of Dustin, and he told me what happened.” 

***

“Okay…”

Steve was doing that bustling thing. Billy knew he was sort of spastic by nature and it was hard to tell whether something bad had happened. He was acting pretty casual but he did that when things bothered him sometimes so Billy edged a little closer, eyes narrowing a bit as he studied him. 

“Did something bad happen? Are Max and Susan alright? Where am I—where am I gonna go? Live?”

***

“So – so it’s good and bad news. Mostly good though! And everybody’s okay.” Steve said, holding a hand up like that could put Billy at ease somehow. He fucked around with a teaspoon and actually measured his sugar, which he never did, but he needed to keep his hands busy. Keep the mood upbeat. He could do that. His eyebrows were arched up as his gaze flicked up to Billy then back down to the mug. It said #1 Dad – the kids had gotten it for him for Christmas and they thought they were sooooo funny.

“I guess, ah, last night your dad was…sort of mad. And he got on Susan’s case. I don’t know, exactly what happened. But it was...maybe pretty bad.” Steve winced. “But this morning, Hop went over there, and talked to Susan after your dad had gone to work. Max stayed home and had to wait in her room, but she eavesdropped, because, well, it’s Max. Now, now here’s the good news! So, Hop said that he knew what was going on, and, offered to let you guys stay with at his old house – it’s the trailer over by Lovers Lake? He used to live there before he moved into his Grandpa’s old hunting cabin. Anyway. Susan was apparently pretty upset over last night, and, she agreed. She packed some stuff up really early in the morning and Hop helped them move stuff over in the Blazer.” 

Steve’s gaze turned back up to Billy, the corner of his mouth turning up a little at the corner. The coffee was burbling, then ready. He poured them each a steaming mug – he left Billy’s black and then seriously started to doctor his own.  
“Max isn’t at school today, but they’re waiting for you when you’re ready to head over. Hop’s supposed to be calling once he gets back to the station to let us know. And see, he hasn’t lived there since before you guys moved to town. Your dad won’t even know it’s there. It’s been empty.” 

***

The corner of Billy’s mouth lifted at the sight of Steve’s mug, hand reaching out to tap at it thoughtfully before he let it be and let Steve totally drown his coffee in sugar. He really was perfect, Steve was honestly fucking perfect. His face was bright and sweet and Billy knew he was trying. It’s not that he wasn’t happy to get away from Neil or be somewhere that Neil wasn’t aware of—somewhere Susan and Max would be alright too. It was just…

“I’m gonna get something out of the Camaro, I’ll be back in a minute alright?” he said, trying to match Steve’s brightness, setting his mug down to give him another lingering embrace. “Just a second.”

As he was stepping into his boots in the entryway he could feel that wind up coming and he knew it was smart to step out for a second. He got into the Camaro quickly and started screaming the second that the door clicked shut. He pounded his fist against the steering wheel because it wasn’t fair. He should be happy but Susan hadn’t done a fucking thing all this time. Max had never seen anything but her mother had, her mother knew. Him getting hurt didn’t mean a fucking thing to her, hearing him deep clean before the sun came up or cry before Neil told him to stop. None of it mattered, she didn’t want anything to change until it affected her. 

***

Steve definitely snooped. He couldn’t help it. Billy’d seemed like he was trying to keep a chipper, upbeat face, probably like Steve – but Steve could tell something wasn’t right. So he stuck his nose out the curtains in the dining room and got a look out into the driveway. It ended with Steve waiting inside the front door, arms crossed over his chest, mug in one hand, slowly cooling. Not really drinking it, just waiting. 

He knew what it was when you just needed some space, and Billy really didn’t need Steve dogging his steps, either. Sometimes you needed to scream in your car. Steve got that. But he still worried. So he waited by the front door for Billy to come in. Chewing at his lip and ignoring his coffee.

***

Billy took in a few heavy breaths and practically rolled out of the Camaro, still fuming. The closer he got to the big red front door the lighter he felt but it didn’t take away the sting of thinking that maybe, just maybe Susan didn’t give a shit at all. He opened the door and Steve was practically nose to nose with him, had obviously been waiting right there. God, that felt fucking good, knowing even after all this crazy shit somebody was waiting. 

“I don’t want her to deal with it and I don’t want her or Max to get hurt, I don’t,” he said, some kind of disclaimer, hands out in front of him. “I just—she knew. She knew and now is when? I gotta get fucking stabbed first?”

***

Steve held his coffee out in one hand so that it wasn’t in between them, then reached past Billy’s outstretched arms to gently tuck him back against Steve – bellies flush, arm curled around the small of his back as he tipped his nose down brushed it over Billy’s. He could still see the way Billy’s body had tensed into that scream when he closed his eyelids.

“C’mon, baby. Come drink your coffee, huh? It’s getting cold.” He gently started to lead Billy away from the door, back to the kitchen – he looped his arm through Billy’s, so that their elbows were crooked together, guiding him like they were prom dates to the kitchen. He’d noticed that Billy really liked physical contact when he was upset – a lot like Steve did.

“Billy – I don’t think it’s that. I’m not saying it’s not fucked up. It is. Fucked up. But from what you’ve told me about her, and just from meeting her…she seems timid. You even said last night that she seemed scared. That she – walked – stiff? Something’s been going on with her too, it sounds like. Maybe she was too afraid, or, didn’t know how to get out. Either of you. I don’t think it took you getting – “ Steve grimaced, imagined the tug of thread through flesh again. “s-stabbed. To do it. I think it’s because she was finally given an out. And she took it – otherwise, it probably would’ve kept going on. She took it for all of you, not just her and Max. Prob’ly didn’t know what to do before this morning. Hell, I didn’t know what to do.” 

***

Billy nodded along, leaning heavily into Steve as they moved into the kitchen, still refusing to part once he’d picked his mug back up. It was nice and bitter, black like he liked it, like Steve knew he liked it. That helped too, having someone know him in such small ways. Made the big shit hurt just a little less. 

“You did a—I know I wasn’t agreeable about it, I know that. But you did a good thing. I wouldn’t have even considered telling anyone anything,” he said, taking a long sip and looking up at Steve. “I think if I didn’t have you then nobody would know. Wouldn’t have come here, wouldn’t have asked for help when it was bad. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me.”

Steve really was a good person through and through, just like he’d told him the first time he’d said I love you. Something bad could’ve turned worse, deadly even if Billy hadn’t had anyone to go to, and both of them knew it. That idea that always swirled in his head, the one about Steve leaving him some day after all of this was through, it was too much to bear. 

“I think I’m okay enough to go over there, I think I can do it, but,” he said slowly, looking away and up at Steve again. “Will you go with me?”

***

Steve flushed a little and looked down at the linoleum, and away. Sipped at his sugar and cream coffee. He really didn’t feel like he’d done much – he’d called Hop. Otherwise he’d felt entire helpless, and it hadn’t been a good feeling. He wondered if that’s the way Susan felt, too. He couldn’t imagine living in a house with someone like Neil, being married to him – having him control your finances, where you lived, and as far as Steve knew, she didn’t work. He knew some husbands didn’t let their wives work – it was pretty old fashioned, but it was still a thing, especially if you were an asshole like Neil Hargrove. He seemed to like to control people, and money was a good way of doing that, too. Steve knew that - his dad was proof.

Steve turned those chocolate eyes back up to Billy, pursing his lips as he shrugged, searching Billy’s of brightest blue.

“ I’m glad you came here. I’m sorry I sort of uh. Freaked out. I didn’t mean to. I was just really, really scared for you – it was a lot of blood. And I think it was deeper than you thought. If that plate hadn’t missed, it….Well, it’s just, it’s good you came here, and that was the deal, so – thanks. For coming here. I knew Hop would be able to help. You’ll see – he’s the best. He can do anything, I think.” 

The corners of Steve’s lips quirked up and then steadied out as Billy asked him about coming with him. His face grew more solemn, serious, because it was a serious question.

“You know I will. However long you need me to.”

***

With that Billy gulped the rest of his coffee down and spared Steve another embrace, this one demanding, squeezing him hard around his shoulders. They stood like that for a minute, Billy moving them in a gentle sway until he knew he was close to losing his nerve about going to his...new home. 

He tried to help Steve load the boxes into both of their cars but Steve wasn’t having any of it, hand on his hip and pointing at Billy like he was the fucking boss or something. He designated Billy to supervising which really just meant waiting in the Camaro until both of their cars were full and following Steve to the trailer. He’d never seen it before but it didn’t look that bad, not any worse than the trailer parks he’d stayed in as a kid. Knowing Hopper owned it was a little comforting at least. 

Susan opened the front door the minute she heard cars pulling in, propping it open and rushing down to try and help Billy out of the car, hands timid and unsure. 

“I heard your—Billy, are you okay? Is your leg alright?” she asked in a quiet voice, stepping back a bit when Billy waved her help off. 

He glanced at Steve getting out of the car and then looked around, no neighbors, no other houses even really in sight. Neil wasn’t here, wouldn’t be here, and it put something in him that made him stand up a little taller, hurt leg be damned. 

“I want my boyfriend to stay over tonight.”

***

Steve was already heading around to the back of the car, waving politely at Mrs. Hargrove. “Hey Mrs. Hargrove,” he called as he got to the trunk, popping it open. He figured he’d give them a minute while he got the boxes sorted, but as Billy basically announced them as a THING he got up on his toes and looked over the hatch, eyes wide, nothing but big eyes and a dreamy cloud of brunette locks sticking up over the car as he stared. 

He cleared his throat, saying ‘If – that’s alright, ma’am,’ and got immediately back down on his heels to stick his head in the car and start pulling out boxes – entirely not sure how his step-mom was gonna react to that announcement. 

***

Billy was maybe, possibly, just a little bit afraid. He kept standing there with his chin out a little, like a kid saying no out of pure petulance, but he was afraid. Maybe Neil had rubbed off on his wife, maybe she was going to treat him shitty too. Maybe this wouldn’t be any different and—her hand was on his arm, and it was feather light. 

“Billy, of course he can,” Susan said, usually downcast eyes moving up to meet her stepson’s. She squeezed his arm just barely, clearly itching to do more than that but skittish as always, daring to rub his arm for a second or two. “Everything’s okay here, we’re all safe right here. The Chief has a good eye on us and—honey, Neil’s not going to darken our door again. Not ever again.”

Now Billy was maybe a little disappointed, or maybe so busy gearing up for something that he didn’t know what to do with himself like this. With a life that at least at this moment was safe, where he could be himself for the first time. He didn’t know what to do with all that space so he just nodded at Susan and slipped out of her touch, looking over at Steve with something surprised on his face. 

***

Steve just grinned back at Billy broadly, the kind of smile that really lit up his face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle up. Billy looked so surprised at the reaction he’d gotten, but Steve was just glad. Billy deserved to have something go right. And things were finally going right. Steve hoped it could last. The new house, Susan, everything was working out – and now, Susan knew they were a thing, and Steve was saying over as ‘boyfriends,’ and it was a nice feeling. 

Even if Steve had a distinct feeling that everybody in town was gonna know in, like, an hour. Tops. But it was one of those things growing up in a place like Hawkins – you got used to having no secrets. The minute you told one person, everybody knew, even if that person didn’t think they were telling everyone. It just worked like that here. Sometimes it wasn’t even when you told somebody – you just got caught - like someone saw you through an open window dancing naked to Madonna like Mr. Prestley over on Washington Street and he’d never lived it down. People still hummed Madonna tunes when he walked by. 

This was a little different though, than dancing naked to pop - because Hawkins was at the edge of the bible belt. There were no gay people in Hawkins - at least not that were out about it. Nobody that Steve knew.

Steve walked up to them, holding a box in front of him, balancing it from underneath, his fingers on the bottom – lifting with his legs. “Thanks for letting me stay over. Just let me know what I can do to help. Where should I start putting these?” 

***

“Billy’s got Hopper’s old room, it’s at the very end of the hallway when you get inside. I’ll have Maxine come help,” Susan said, moving over to Steve to give him the quick and light embrace she’d wanted to give Billy, her voice dropping. “Thank you, Steve, you don’t know just how much you’ve helped this family. You’re always welcome to stay, okay? I think it’s going to be warmer, like this. Happier, I hope.”

She ushered Billy up the steps into the trailer, hands hovering somewhere behind him. She couldn’t see Billy’s leg when he was wearing those sweats but she’d heard it when it happened from the living room and Hopper had told her a little. It made her wonder how he hadn’t gone to the hospital, if her husband had really made his son that afraid to get help. At least he had someone, a very good someone it seemed. 

“Max, could you please go out to the cars and help Steve with Billy’s boxes?” she called, leading Billy into the living room to sit on Hopper’s couch, just a hair’s breadth away from starting to fuss over him now that she had the chance. 

***

Steve had a good feeling about this. Especially after Susan said that – warmer. Happier. That’s what Billy needed. He really didn’t think that he’d helped at all – it was all Hopper, really. All Steve’d done was stitched up Billy’s leg and bitched about it the whole time, practically passed out. Didn’t feel much like helping. But either way, he was excited to see how good this would be for Billy, and for Max. Susan too. It’d be good for all of them. It was good to have family, Steve thought. He tried to ignore the slight pang in his chest about going home to his own house in a few days. But he’d get to enjoy this, for now, with Billy. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Hargrove. I’m glad everything worked out alright. I’m sure it will be.” Steve smiled at her, ears a little red.

“Yeah mom!” Max called back.

She met Steve in the hallway where Steve was already heading towards the back of the trailer, arms full of cardboard – she followed him to make sure he found the right room, and Steve put it into the empty closet. He was surprised Hopper still had some furniture here – it’d been a while since he’d lived here, Steve guessed. Ever since all the government conspiracy crap, he supposed. Steve’s mouth twitched and he glanced up at the light scone on the ceiling of the room that used to be Hoppers – he’d remembered Hopper telling him he’d found bugs in the lights here. Creepy. 

They continued carrying in the boxes, and Steve was reminded of when Max had helped him in the junkyard – been the only ONE helping him, if he remembered correctly. Which he did. 

The last thing Steve grabbed out of the back seat was his own duffel bag, full of overnight stuff, and clothes for the next couple days. 

***

Billy watched everyone flit around carrying his things, Susan doing something bizarrely domestic that sounded like making lemonade, the clanking of glasses and churning of some liquid. It was strange, so used to doing everything himself and then some, watching people help him like it was nothing. When Steve came in with a duffel bag he made himself stand up, heard Susan say something softly in protest but waved her off again. 

“Here, let me help with something,” he said, making grabby hands for the bag and practically pulling it right out of Steve’s arms, marching his way down to his new bedroom. 

It was completely empty except for a newly made bed—probably Susan’s doing—and a bedside table with a lamp. He wondered what was in the boxes piled up against the wall but he was fucking tired from doing nothing, flopped on his back on the bed, duffel bag cradled in his arms.

***

“Hey,” Steve griped. “I told you you didn’t have to carry anything! Your leg…” He followed after Billy, on his heels as they got all the way back to his new room. 

He carefully shut the door behind him, even though he was definitely expecting something like a '‘doors stay OPEN’ like from Mrs. Wheeler when he was with Nancy. “I think you definitely need to stay on bed rest.” Steve laughed, voice suggestive, easing down onto the bed beside Billy and pressing a soft, brief kiss to his cheek. Then he was stretched out over the mattress, arching his spine and extending his arms above his head – trying to loosen up from carrying boxes. His back felt a little stiff. 

The door swung open. Steve almost fell off the bed. It was just Max. She shut the door quickly behind her again, pale blue eyes studying the two of them on the bed as Steve sat up, twisting himself so that his legs hung off the edge of the bedframe to keep his feet on the floor. 

“Hey Steve – no offense, but do you care if I talk to my b – step, brother? For a minute?” Max asked, but it clearly sounded a little more like a demand. 

“Oh uh. Yeah. Sure thing.” Steve sat up, glancing down at Billy. “I’ll be back in a few?” 

***

Billy nodded as he pushed himself to sit up, that old, sharp feeling crawling over him for just a minute. He was trying to keep it at bay but he wasn’t exactly sure how this would go, all that false power Neil had ‘given’ him gone now that he wasn’t around. 

He watched Steve leave and dropped Steve’s duffel on the ground next to the bed, staring at it and wondering how many days Steve had packed for. He imagined getting to be somewhere safe with Steve that wasn’t his parents’ empty house, eating in a place he called home without hiding anything. Then he remembered the red headed stepchild in the room and sighed, lifting his head to look at Max. 

“What is it?”

***

Steve went to go sit in the living room, or ask Susan if she needed help with anything – he wasn’t sure yet. Closing the door quietly behind him.

Max folded her arms across her chest, in that high and mightier than thou way she did sometimes, chin jutting out, nostrils flaring. Her wild, frizzy red hair hanging around her. She’d been waiting for Billy to get home all day. Since last night, actually. And now home wasn’t even home, it was here.

“You weren’t there. Where were you, Billy?” She hissed at him, blinking fast. Max didn’t cry. Not Ever. 

“I – I was worried about you. Then, then this morning – I heard what Hopper said. You. You said you would tell me. You said you would tell me if you needed help.” Max sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, taking a step back.

“You said it in the car! But you didn’t tell me, tell me anything – that he – “ Max’x burning blue eyes flitted away, anywhere but at Billy. She scrubbed at her nose, because it was smarting, tingling. “Are you – are you okay, asshole?” She choked a bit on the endearment. “What the hell is going on? Huh? Friends don’t lie, Billy!”

***

“We weren’t friends, not for a long time! Jesus, you think I tell Tommy or any of those assholes about this shit?” Billy snapped, or nearly did, making himself roll his shoulders and lower his voice. “I’m fine, alright? See? I’m fine. I went to Steve’s and everything ended up fine, okay? Steve got your mom out and she’s alright.”

He debated what to say to Max, how much to tell her. He didn’t want any of this to touch her any more than it already had, didn’t want anything ugly in the world to come near her. But she’d already gotten uprooted twice, she might’ve seen something last night. Whatever bad Steve was referencing. 

“Max, you’re just a kid. You couldn’t help me, okay? I’m alright anyway, it’s okay. Your mom’s safe and it’ll be better here for you two. You guys are gonna be fine.”

***

Max scoffed and rolled her eyes back into her head like she couldn’t believe he’d actually JUST said that. It was kind of a signature look for her when somebody said something REALLY dumb. 

“Um. Tommy? I’m not Tommy! I’m not some asshole! I’m your s-st-, I’m your, your sister, dammit! I…I didn’t think we weren’t just, just not friends anymore, I just thought you were MAD at me. Mom said it’s just because you were being a teenager! And I’m not a kid! I’m not! I can deal with shit! But nobody ever tells me anything! You never tell me anything! I’ve seen a lot worse than your dad, and, by the way, what a prick. How could he do those things? I…you should have called me. No, you should have radioed me, if you were at Steve’s. Something. Mom – hit her head. She wouldn’t - wake up.” 

Max twitched.

“I didn’t know what to do. You were gone.” She twisted her arms in front of her again defensively, clamping her jaw shut tight and staring at the floor. 

“What do you mean? You mean we. For us three. Better for us three. Right? You’re staying here too, right? I mean apparently we’re just, staying here now. This is your room, so.” She gestured at the room in general, lifting her eyes to stare at him expectantly. “We.” He couldn’t seriously be thinking of going back to the house - right?

***

“Max, you fucking outed me. Yeah I was mad, you didn’t deserve it because you’re a fucking kid. But I was, I don’t want to fucking turn into Neil so I’m trying,” Billy said, looking around a little too, shrugging. “I’m gonna stay, alright? I wasn’t there because I couldn’t—“

He thought about what it might’ve looked like for Max, watching her mother get smacked into something for hopefully the first time. For her to be alone in the house like that while Billy was nowhere to be found, out getting his leg stitched up with sewing thread. For her to be scared by herself. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t home. I’m not gonna forget what happened to your mom because I wasn’t there. You’re not going to have to do that by yourself again, you’re not gonna have to do that again period.”

***

Max’s shoulders relaxed a hairsbreadth when Billy confirmed he’d be staying. She hadn’t been able to imagine him wanting to go back – even if that was home. And this was…well, here. 

She scowled at him, glancing away, tugging at the sleeves of her green zip up sports jacket, until the cuffs covered her hands. 

“I said I was sorry for it...I didn’t...I didn’t know it was supposed to be bad.”

She rubbed at her nose with her sleeve, still not looking at him.

“You – JEEZ you just, you make me crazy. I wasn’t – what I’m trying to TELL you is that I was WORRIED about you, you don’t have to be – sorry – “ She clenched her eyes shut. She felt like she had a knot in her throat. She sat down on the edge of the bed like her weight would somehow be enough to send it crashing to the ground, and that was her purpose. She swung her legs, glancing at him uneasily. 

“Yeah ‘cause we never have to see your asshole dad again ever.” Her gaze shifted to study his legs, like she couldn’t determine which one was hurt. “You’re sure you’re okay? Chief Hopper said your leg was hurt. What happened? I heard – something break, last night. Like glass.” She leaned forward a little, brow puckering, inspecting his clothed knees. “Show me?” 

***

Billy chewed at the inside of his cheek and watched Max’s legs swing for a second. She seemed a little calmer even if she was still a fucking spaz, yelling like he was the crazy one. He sighed, a heavy, put upon sound as he eased himself up a little off of the mattress and pushed the sweat pants down and sat again. 

“Steve fixed it pretty good,” he said, looking down at the stitching. It was jagged but done carefully even though the skin looked a bit irritated. Probably shouldn’t have used fucking thread. “Neil told me not to come to dinner, brought the plate in but it was a trick. He...does that. Did that, a lot.”

***

Max’s eyes turned the size of half dollars at the sight of the angry, stitched up wound – a little lopsided, a lot jagged, and looking prime for infection. Max gaped down at it, not even making a joke about her brother in boxers and gross – which was like, a big deal that she restrained herself – instead, she gulped and stared up at him. 

“Holy shit.” She said. She got her eyes back on the wound that looked like it could have been left by a knife. “Holy shit, Billy.”

She sat there, stumped - her legs had stopped swinging. His dad did that. She’d known he was a prick, but... She looked up at him slowly at the comment about the plate. So not a knife, a – dinner plate? Like what, like he threw it at him? Broke it then wielded it like some sort of machete? What?

“….so. Hang on.” She said, connecting the pieces in under a second. “All those times that he told us you weren’t hungry – he was just…fucking with you? Keeping you in your room?” She got this look on her face like she’d swallowed poison and she was gonna throw up. “What a DICK. What a DICK. Your dad – is a psycho. He’s a psycho!” She looked like this light had been turned on above her head and she couldn’t snap it off. “And you didn’t, all this time...those fights weren’t fights. The bruises. Were they?” She rubbed her temples like her brain hurt. “Oh my god. You’ve had those since, since my mom started dating your dad. All this time. This whole time. I’m so stupid.” 

***

Billy’s mouth twisted in the corner and he pulled the sweatpants back up, sitting a little closer to Max once he sat down. She was putting it together pretty quick, not that he was surprised. She always was a smart kid, real fast on her feet even before Billy had tried to get her tougher. 

“You’re not stupid Max. Didn’t exactly advertise it,” he said, swinging his leg to knock against hers a little, starting a slow rhythm. “You’re a kid, you’re not supposed to deal with any of this. You’re not going to. I’m alright, I survived and shit. I was never gonna tell you about this shit, but—I had help. Somebody helped.”

***

“I should’ve put it together faster.” Max said. There really wasn’t an excuse for how blind she’d been. She started knocking her knee back into Billy’s in unison, and it made a wave of nostalgia wash up her throat. “I swear, Billy, don’t call me a kid again – I’m already fourteen.” She got a line of consternation between her brows, gnawing on her lip, watching how their knees bumped casually together. Steady as waves off the Pacific. “I mean – you were the same age as me, back then. And you were the one it was happening to.” 

She turned to look up at her step brother again as he said he was never gonna tell her. Never planned on it. Her frown deepened, really shadowing her freckled face now. Her knee went still. 

“You could’ve. You could’ve told me. I thought…” She looked away, lower lip jutting out a little in a bit of a pout, voice solemn. “I thought we were a team. Back home.” Real home. Back in Cali. “I thought…before, you know…I messed everything up. Coulda told me. You just…you just had to go through it alone. It just...sucks.” 

***

“Yeah...it does. I mean, hopefully shit will be better now,” Billy said, reaching out to slowly link their arms together. Just like he used to when they’d walk on the beach after blowing off school. “Thanks anyway, even if I guess I realized it too late.”

It really was a nice thought, albeit a sort of sad one. All those times he could’ve maybe snuck into Max’s room and told her. Maybe could’ve even asked to sleep next to her instead of alone after a beating, not having to go days without seeing someone after a rare bad one. He had Steve for that too, and it reminded him. 

“Listen, uh. Steve’s gonna sleep over here, maybe a couple days,” he said, voice careful like he wasn’t convinced he should say it. “I just—it’s been a lot, lately. It’ll help.”

***

Max relaxed against Billy’s shoulder when he got their arms linked, huffing a sigh as she briefly closed her eyes – the memory trigger almost as potent as smelling the beach in Cali. “Yeah. Wish it’d been different. Maybe in another universe it was.” 

The atmosphere immediately shifted as Billy changed the topic. 

Max cracked one eye open at the thing about Steve, arching a slender eyebrow above it, and gave him a wry look from the corner of her peripherals. Her head rocked back on her neck like, had she been born yesterday? 

“You’re such a hopeless horndog.” Max sighed, smiling up at him – beaming, really, like she found it pretty amusing. Lightening the mood from their whole trip down shitty-memory-lane. “What ‘m I gonna do with you, brother of mine? Have you two made it official yet or is it still just arcade bathroom banging?” She wrinkled her freckle covered nose in clear amusement. 

***

Billy’s eyes widened in surprise and his head whipped right toward Max, his expression changing when he saw her smile, heard her little smart ass mouth. He smiled back then, first at her and then down at their legs swinging together, feeling a little mortified but a little fond too. Very, very sharp as always. 

Then something sharp lodged itself in his chest, had him looking back up at Max, face serious, almost pleading. He remembered a broken wrist and begging a boy to leave with him, one whose name he wouldn’t even think, let alone speak. 

“You can’t tell anyone, alright? Max, you have to promise you’re not going to tell anyone,” he said, slipping his arm out of Max’s, his hand wrapping gently around her forearm. “Nobody knows except Susan, nobody knows Steve’s—that we’re—nobody can know. I can’t do that to him.”

***

Max figured she almost got some kind of whiplash – at first he seemed fine, smiling at her, and everything was okay – he looked a little embarrassed maybe, but nothing big. Like things were normal. But then it morphed into something closer to panic, something sharp and dangerous – pleading. And then he really was pleading with her – asking her not to tell, promise not to tell – dislodging their arms where they’d linked together, for only the briefest of moments. Like it was before. Their connection seemed to snap at the exact same moment, with the physical representation. 

The second Billy’s fingers wrapped around her forearm – gently or not – Max flinched, and jerked her arm away. She had to blink a few times to remind herself it wasn’t going to hurt, but she tucked the arm against her chest anyways, out of Billy’s reach. 

She slouched her shoulders, her expression having soured as she stared at him incredulously. Like could he be that stupid? She knew better. Now. She knew better now.

“Billy. I know, okay? Jesus, obviously I’m not going to tell anyone – I’m not an idiot - I’ve known about it for months, clearly, and I haven’t said shit, have I? Why would that change now? Last year, I – I told you, okay? I didn’t know it was supposed to be a bad thing. I didn’t know your dad was gonna fly off his freakin’ rocker like the psychopath he is. I still don’t see why it’s supposed to be ‘bad’ or whatever.” 

She frowned at him, unconsciously rubbing her arm. 

“I thought – we could just talk about it like it was normal. I know better than to open my mouth about it, after – well.” Max stood up, shuffling her feet a little on the shitty trailer carpet. The entire moment between them had snapped like a bubble in midair. “But I guess I thought we could still talk about it. You ‘n me. Nevermind. Whatever. I promise.” She scowled at the carpet, mouth pinched tight, and started toward the door with hurried steps.

***

Billy’s face fell when Max pulled her arm away, thrown right back to last year, to grabbing her wrist just like Neil. He kept his hands in his lap after that, guilt turning his guts to acid. Then Max was getting up, she was going to leave and shit was going to be ruined. He had to stay where he was or he’d scare her and he never wanted to scare her again and—

“Neil shut my arm in the Camaro door after you told him. That’s how I broke my wrist, he broke it. He wouldn’t let me go to the hospital so I had to steal a brace,” he blurted out, hands curling against the tops of his thighs, his eyes fixed on them. “I was gonna run away the night before we moved with—but it didn’t work out. If he ever—if there are other people like that, who think like that here...that can’t happen to Steve. It can’t happen to him.”

***

Max paused at the door, staring back at him over her shoulder- a curtain of red hair creating a veil over half of her face, hand outstretched towards the handle. Her shoulders went stiff under her bright green sports jacket. Watching Billy watching his hands, not looking back at her. Her other hand curled into a fist at her side, hard enough to kind of hurt, and for the knuckles to turn white with strain. 

Neil’d broke Billy’s wrist. Just fucking great. She knew it hadn’t healed right, either – she saw him messing with it sometimes, especially when he was working out and lifting weights, like something wasn’t sitting quite right, or like it bothered him – even when it snowed. And that was Max’s fault too.

She hadn’t known. She didn’t know. It was so much worse than she’d thought. 

Guilt washed through her in a flash flood - an affliction which was already there in the background, usually, when she was around Billy. Now it was back in spades. She thought of months ago, when they were in the Camaro - Billy telling her it was her fault. Screaming at her to ‘SAY IT!’

Max’s jaw worked for a second, grinding her molars together. Forget other people. She should’ve kept her mouth shut to Billy, too. She’d thought that maybe this time – maybe this time it could be different. That this time, she could know, and could tease him like sisters teased their brothers, or vice versa, about dating or whatever. She didn’t care if it was a dude. That this time, it could be the way it should’ve happened the first time. She could just give him some shit and then – not get his wrist broken in the camaro door. 

Max’s face snapped back towards the door. “I’m sorry.” She said tightly, then fled. Slipping out the door and shutting it tight behind her. 

***

Billy hunched in on himself on the bed, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Max was pissed and he’d just wanted to explain. She’d said he could’ve told her and he wanted to just tell her and it hadn’t really worked. At all. He’d try again later to get that smile back but right now he was too fucking tired, didn’t understand how to navigate a fourteen year old when his brain was nothing but mush.

He laid back down on the bed, this time on his stomach, cheek pillowed on a forearm. A sigh that deflated him completely left him in a long huff, his eyes staring off at nothing in particular. He just wanted to shut himself down for a while; a night of very fitful sleep, a still mostly empty stomach, and getting everything upended had turned him into a fucking zombie. 

Minutes passed and Steve didn’t come in so he forced himself up, walking with weary limbs down a hallway that felt a million miles long. Susan was puttering around the kitchen but she was honest to god humming and it was comforting. So was the sight of Steve passed out on the couch, one that dragged him right up next to him. This place was safe, Susan had said so, so he let himself lean against Steve’s bottom half where he was laying down, dead asleep sitting straight up in under a minute.

***

Steve stirred awake to the alarm, chirping brightly on Billy’s watch set to 5:45 - he’d been the one to set it after he’d awoken on the couch with Billy leaning against his legs, dead to the world. Susan’d said dinner would be at 6:00. He’d gathered Billy up in his arms, a dead weight of deep sleep, and carried him back to his new room. Which was kind of easier said than done, because Billy was practically built out of bricks.

Now, they were both on the bed, and Steve was shocked it was already time to get up – it’d only been like, eleven when Steve had passed out on the couch waiting for Billy and Max to finish their conversation. Steve hummed and tried to bury himself back against Billy’s side. He was currently on his stomach, about two feet south of Billy’s head, so that his face was pressing into the soft curve of Billy’s stomach, though he wasn’t sure how he’d ended up like that. 

“Mmph…Billy…dinner…” Steve sighed into the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt. 

***

Billy grunted, hands moving around blindly until they came to rest on Steve’s head, body curling up like a comma. He had a kink in his neck but he’d gotten some good rest, though he wasn’t quite sure how he got to his new bed. There was some half memory of being carried but it seemed silly the more he thought about it. 

“Mhm,” he said after a minute, scooting down until he was face to face with Steve, eyes still closed as he leaned forward for a slow kiss. “Okay, ready? Max is fine, she’s not gonna blab.”

***

Steve blinked blearily into the kiss, his hair a mess, and he reached up to curl his fingers into the belly of Billy’s shirt, tugging a little as he made a questioning sound against Billy’s mouth. He was worried he had really bad morning breath. “Mmhm, yea….blab..what?”

Steve yawned, having to tilt his head away from Billy’s before he rested his temple against that button nose, eyes drifting closed again. He just wanted to go back to sleep, even though he knew he wanted to get up so Billy could eat – he needed to have eaten more than ice cream and crackers or whatever today, especially when last night, he’d only had a little applesauce and gatorade.

“What’d you guys talk about? Blab ‘bout what?” 

***

“She’s pissed off at me for never telling her anything, and she’s pissed about—I don’t know,” Billy said with a heavy sigh, slipping his arms around Steve for a quick squeeze before making himself sit up. 

He ran a hand through his curls and looked around the room, half expecting his old bedroom to somehow materialize in front of him. A table with no stereo, a broken plate under the window, posters all over the walls. Maybe he’d be able to have something just a little better to look at here, once he had the energy. 

“She told me I could tell her shit so I did...didn’t go so well. Don’t know why she’s pissed at me if she demanded it. Think she just liked the idea of it,” he said, standing up and reaching out to pull Steve with him, an upright embrace this time, voice muffled against Steve’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

***

“’m up, ‘m up.” Steve pouted as he dragged himself to his feet, supported by Billy’s arms – looping his own around a thick, sturdy waist and breathing in the scent of him, nuzzling at his sleep frizzed curls as he stood there for a second. Burrowing into Billy’s embrace.

“I’m sure that’s probably not it…she usually says what’s on her mind and she means it…maybe you could ask her about it later, you know, clarify things. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.” Steve pressed a light, sweet kiss against Billy’s temple before he straightened up – stretching his back until it popped. He still didn’t see what that had to do with blabbing. 

“Ready to eat something?” 

***

Billy didn’t really respond, just held Steve’s hand as they stepped out of the bedroom and made their way down the hall. At the last second he held them back, looking at Steve with serious, earnest eyes. 

“She won’t tell anybody that you’re—that we’re dating. She’s not gonna do that,” he said quietly, trying to look reassuring, a small smile on his face. “I promise. That’s not gonna happen to you.”

When he was satisfied he kept moving, eyes on the rickety dining table with plates set, something like pot roast in the middle with rolls piled up next to it. There was actual fucking lemonade on the table too, just like he’d thought. Susan looked happy to keep moving around and steering Max with utensils toward the table, like she was finally comfortable. 

He let go of Steve’s hand to sit gingerly down on the couch, biting at the cuticle of his thumb and looking at the television, some local news on talking about heavy rain coming. He tried to let it drown everything out, leg starting to jiggle, but then he was whispering to Steve. 

“Did you get—is all the stuff from under the bed in those boxes?”

***

Steve relaxed into the hand holding his, enjoying the way their fingers meshed together, interlaced as they wandered towards the living room down the narrow hallway. There was so much wood paneling, just, everywhere. 

Right before they hit the living room, Billy dropped that on him – Steve stared at him, mouth falling open, working on a question but Billy was already moving forward, now more so dragging Steve along with him.

“I – hey – what, you didn’t tell me that she – “ But then they were in the living room / dining room, and Susan and Max were there. Steve’s mouth snapped shut as he gave an awkward little half wave, before Billy was letting his hand loose. “Hey. Smells really good, Mrs. Hargrove. Is there anything I can help with, or?”

But when she waved him off, Steve just settled down beside Billy, noting the bouncing leg, like he was nervous about something. Steve gently settled his hand over Billy’s thigh, thumb brushing against denim, and he decided, it was probably good that Max knew too – along with Susan – and he didn’t have to worry about touching Billy or anything like that. It was…it was actually kind of nice. Even if he was kind of surprised Billy’d told Max. 

Steve gave Billy a big look at his question, mouth dipping down at the corners as he got a little line between his eyebrows – a crease of concern. 

“Um – yeah, I think I got everything, I checked.” He nodded. He’d saved everything but the food, so that it wouldn’t attract mice or bugs. He was surprised it hadn’t already – but Hop’s cabin was in the middle of the woods, by the lake, and there would definitely be critters around here that would love to get their tiny paws on a granola bar stash. “Why?”

***

Billy looked down at the hand resting on his bouncing leg, a little disappointed that it hadn’t lessened the movement in the slightest. He bit his thumb harder and chewed at the corner, shaking his head dismissively as he looked at the television again. All he could really focus on was every tiny square making up one big picture, the face of a man he didn’t recognize making wide gestures with his arm at some weather map. 

“Go on,” he said around his thumb, nodding toward where Susan and Max were taking their seats. 

***

Steve frowned at Billy, tipping his head a little – gaze skittering between the table with Max and Susan and Billy on the couch next to him. He’d seemed alright when they woke up, but now he seemed – fidgety, nervous, upset about something. Steve wasn’t sure.  
Steve used to chew on his nails, and he knew what a nervous tic was when he saw it. 

It was weird how Billy said that – like, what, like Steve was going alone?

“You ready? Or is Charles the Weatherman super important right now?” he teased gently. “Everybody knows it rains this time of year – it’s better than snow. C’mon.” Steve stood up, waiting for Billy. 

***

Billy realized he was still locked into the night before but he couldn’t really convince himself it wasn’t right. It was pretty much always like this and the last thing he wanted to do was go into this new...whatever it was and fuck up. He’d already pushed it, a lot by having Steve stay here. Back at home home he would be in a ditch by now. Steve’s little smile was contagious and he returned it, tried to look smooth and easy. 

“It’s okay, spot’s for you,” he said quietly, shaking his head again and starting for his index finger next, eyes just narrowly avoiding contact with Susan’s across the room into the kitchen. “I’ll look in the boxes later.”

***

Steve glanced up at the table in the distance, and then carefully settled back down onto the couch – reaching out to rotate Billy towards him, just a little – so that he didn’t have the tv or the table in his line of sight anymore. Just Steve. He smiled down at him a little, holding him by one shoulder, and he used the other hand to gently draw Billy’s hand away from his mouth. He was worrying it raw.

“Billy,” Steve said in a really low voice, pitched so that only the other boy could hear him. “Baby, there’s two spots at the table. One for me, one for you. Okay? You don’t have to worry – your dad’s not here. He’s not gonna be here. It’s just us, and Susan made us a ton of food – it smells good, right?” He said slowly, searching Billy’s face - he looked a lot like he had last night. Steve didn’t know the ins and outs of trauma, but he knew it could affect people in lots of different ways, for years – and it had only been a day. Not even 24 hours. The box things clicked with him, made him realize why Billy had been asking. 

“Hop filled up the pantry – there’s so much food you won’t even know what to do with it. And you can eat as much as you want. All you’ve had was that ice cream and crackers, right? And that was this morning. So let’s get your stomach full, and you’ll feel a lot better, okay?” 

***

What if you’re wrong? What if Susan gets mad at me and I don’t have anywhere to sleep? Billy kept his nervous questions to himself, forced to look at Steve and no more hand to bother. Steve looked...sweet, unbelievably sweet. He also looked sure, like maybe nothing awful would happen as long as he was there. 

He followed Steve to the table, almost dragging his feet, coming to a stop when Susan stood up. This was it, it was just a trick and she’d—

“Here, Billy, you and Steve sit next to each other,” Susan said, pulling a chair out and easing Billy into it. She let her hands rest on his shoulders despite the small flinch he gave, her touch light and brief, just a squeeze and then they were gone. “Max, go ahead and dig in now that everybody’s here.”

***

Steve folded up into the chair next to Billy, sliding his napkin out from under the silverware to fold it in his lap, eyeing his boyfriend out of the corner of one eye. But he’d gotten him to the table, and that was something. It made sense, Steve supposed – if Neil had been withholding food from him forever, and then last night he’d nearly bashed in his skull with a dinner plate. It was just so fucked up. It made him so sad, like something twisting in his chest, making it hard to breathe if he thought about it too much.

Max was frowning across the table at Billy, almost like she was thinking about the same thing as Steve was thinking about. Dinner plates and bloodied jeans. Their eyes connected over the table like they were making some unspoken agreement.

“Hey Billy.” She said, nudging at his leg lightly from under the table, close to his foot. “I made the mashed potatoes and the salad. So you have to eat all of them and tell me they’re amazing, okay?” 

She started cutting up her meat haphazardly, into too large chunks, and had to spear one too-big piece to gnaw on it, dripping gravy. Steve rolled his eyes at her, shoving a few mouthfuls of potatoes in his mouth, and cutting his roast up into tiny, manageable bite-sized pieces – holding his silverware like some kind of aristocrat. 

“That’s disgusting, Max. But the potatoes are superb.” Steve told her. “Here look, you cut it like this…jeez…you’re as bad as Dustin…” 

***

Billy sort of zoned out after that, given the go ahead by everyone in his new house. Then suddenly his plate was empty and a pair of manicured hands were quickly filling it again, making another brief and light touch this time to the top of his head. It almost felt like his mother’s, something so soft and maternal to it that he nearly ducked his head in embarrassment. 

He’d never tasted anything this good before and it’s not like Susan was a bad cook but he had a feeling it wasn’t just that. It was listening to Max and Steve argue at the table. It was kicking at Max’s foot every once in a while and getting one in return. It was watching Susan watching all of them with her cheek in her hand, looking relaxed. 

He didn’t even noticed his eyes had welled up a little until he saw Susan’s hand again, patting him on his folded forearm on the table. When he looked up at her she was smiling so he smiled back, tight lipped with a mouth full of food, and found it genuine. 

***

Dinner actually passed pretty quickly. Steve kept shoving half of his food onto Billy’s plate like he had gotten too much and he couldn’t finish it all, like cut up bits of meat and a spoonful of potatoes and half of an already buttered roll. Even though it didn’t really add up because he kept going back for seconds, because, like his mom said, he was a garbage disposal. He ate a lot. And that’s what really flummoxed him, because if Steve was hungry all the time – Billy had to be way more. How did he keep all that muscle packed on if he was going without food? 

Steve caught the way Billy’s eyes were welling up as well, and he dipped his left hand under the table to rest it carefully over Billy’s knee, casually out of sight. Smiling a little over at him, with susan on his other side doing the same. 

Max just kept blabbing on about something stupid with the guys, and Steve humored her. 

“This tastes great, Mrs. Hargrove. It’s really good, thanks for having me over.” 

“Hey,” Max griped.

“And thanks for the salad and potatoes, Max.”

***

Billy managed to keep it together long enough to finish, not sure how many plates he’d actually polished off. All he knew was his stomach felt perfectly full and he was—happy, a little happy. He sniffed hard and was glad Max wasn’t going to give him any shit, either that or she was too busy talking shit with Steve. 

He stood up and moved to grab people’s plates but got waved off by Susan, eyebrows knitted together stubbornly while she took his plate right out of his hand. He looked over at Max for help but got nothing, eyes shifting to Steve’s face instead. 

“Don’t look at him, you go relax,” Susan said, her voice a little more confident than Billy had ever heard it. “Hopper left his TV in your new room so just go on, go to sleep, whatever you’d like to do. Hopper’s going to bring your schoolwork by after he talks with the principal about something tomorrow—in case you’d like a few more days.”

***

Steve helped carry his own dishes to the sink, also snatching up Max’s as he added hers to the pile. He glanced up at Billy with a slow, steady smile.

“I have an idea. C’mon.” He said. “Mrs. Hargrove, if you give me a sec I’ll be back and I can help you clean up.” He went to one of the drawers that looked like it might have baggies and stuff in it, and didn’t strike out. He pulled a box with saran wrap out. Then he snagged Billy’s hand and tugged him along, away from the kitchen, smiling back at him over his shoulder. 

“You know what’s probably perfect? A shower. You can take a shower – I know the box I put your shampoo and stuff in, and your towel – “ When they got back to Billy’s room, Steve tossed the wrap on the bed and started sorting through the boxes. When he found the right one, he flipped the top to start pulling out soap, shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, the cologne bottle, washcloth and towel, and a bundle of fresh clothes for good measure. 

“There.” He said over the pile in his arms. “See? Everything. And I can help your step-mom, and start unloading some of the boxes. You can take as long as you want.” 

He knew Billy hadn’t showered at least since yesterday, and he still had that sour stress sweat smell - like when your adrenals got over-taxed. Steve figured a shower would probably also do him a world of good, and help him feel a lot better.

***

Billy followed Steve into the bathroom—more like, he was very sternly and lovingly ushered into the bathroom, and didn’t put up a fuss. He was still kind of reeling from dinner, how normal and nice it had felt compared to just a day ago. Steve didn’t seem too bothered, just turned the water on for him and left, even the click of the door soft and careful. 

He took a while to take his clothes off, acutely aware of the smell of fear once he had them in a pile next to the toilet. He catalogued his body, the bruise on his side from scrambling out of the window, the homemade suturing still looking angry, before he couldn’t really stand to look anymore. He tried his best to wrap over the stitches, wondered if he should have Hopper look at it. He was a cop, not a doctor, but maybe he’d be able to tell if they should get someone professional to fix it. 

By the time he got into the shower it was perfect and he spent a long time sitting on the floor of it even after he’d cleaned up, back against the side of the tub with his knees to his chest. His skin was right on the edge of pruny when he made his way out but even then he didn’t leave the bathroom, unwrapping his leg and taking his time shaving until he felt like he was actually seeing himself in the mirror again. 

When he crept out of the bathroom he could hear Susan and Max talking in the living room softly, the sounds of the television in the background, but everything sounded okay. Okay for once, okay right now. 

***

Steve had helped Susan with the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, feeling sort of weird and awkward the entire time – in the same kind of way when he’d had to go to Barb’s parents house and have dinner with them (with her, you know, dead), but, he hoped as he got to know Susan better it would help that.

A long time had passed with Billy in the shower, and Steve had unpacked three quarters of the boxes – hanging up shirts in the closet and folding jeans into drawers. He’d placed the important looking collection from under the floorboards in the nightstand drawer with care - trying not to poke through it too much, because he knew it was Billy’s special stuff from his mom and things like that. Then he’d organized the records, stacking tape cassettes on the nightstand. He thought he knew what he wanted to get Billy for his birthday – a new stereo, he needed one. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a reminder of the old one, and it’s demise destroying Billy’s back. Maybe he could be sneaky and buy one at the mall.

Now, Steve was lying on his back with the television set on, watching Laverne and Shirley and chuckling at something Squiggy was screwing up, sipping on a Capri Sun that Susan’d brought – it was cherry flavored. There was one on the bed with Billy’s name on it next to Steve. 

As Billy walked in with a towel twisted around his hair like a turban, Steve smiled up at him with a soft look in his dark doe eyes. He was clean shaven now, looking far better rested - almost like himself. 

“Hey, babe.” Steve smiled up at him, patting the bed beside him. 

***

“Did you sneak loungewear into my wardrobe?” Billy asked, gesturing down to yet another pair of sweats, though the shirt with the sleeves ripped off was all him. “Am I getting monogrammed robes for Christmas?”

He shut the door and locked it behind him—habit, even if Neil knew how to turn the knob hard enough to get through his shitty door. Finally crawling into bed with Steve was like a breath of fresh air, a smile creeping onto his face when he saw the Capri sun. He stabbed the straw through and made a show of draining it, slapping it onto the bedside table and turning toward Steve. 

“Thanks for unpacking,” he said, tucking himself up against Steve’s side, one hand creeping up under his shirt to get at warm skin. “Didn’t have to do that.”

***

Steve sniffed, turning his nose up a little.

“Of course I did. I just threw in some of my sweats and stuff that are a little big on me…seriously like all you have are those skin tight Levis, I didn’t see that going over well with, you know, your leg.”

He gestured a little at Billy’s leg as he slid into the bed next to him. Sucking down the Capri Sun like it was a contest who could finish fastest, but Steve wasn’t exactly in a rush. He smiled, his lips cherry pink from the drink. 

“You can keep them, I have a lot. I like lounging. And being warm. All out of monogrammed robes though, you’re shit outta luck.” 

Steve let out a breathy laugh, glancing back up at Laverne and Shirley on the tiny, square set as Squiggy made an exclamation. He’d seen this episode before, so he remembered what was happening.

“You’re welcome – I wanted to. You just deserve some rest, you shouldn’t need to worry about that. And now everything is organized. Sort of. I tried.” He arched his stomach up a little into Billy’s touch, craving those warm, still damp fingers on his skin. 

***

Billy smiled lopsidedly, scratching gently over Steve’s stomach before pulling his hand out and setting it in the center of his chest. He settled his head on the pillow and didn’t look at the television, liked it as background noise but liked looking at Steve more. Steve who’d packed and unpacked his life for him in what felt like a couple of ways. 

“Think I want another day to just...rest I guess, like you said. But I wanna go back on Wednesday,” he said, reaching up to pull his hair free of the towel with his other hand, shaking his head onto the pillow. “Just want some normal during the day. Or something like it I guess.”

***

“It’ll be good to be back at school. Finals are coming up sooner rather than later, so it’ll be good, and everything will go back to normal. Better than normal.” Steve tipped his head away from the set, reaching out to cling to Billy’s side like a bit of a koala – arm curling around his shoulders, to start combing out his tangle of curls with one set of fingers. Nosing against his throat, and sliding one bent leg over both of Billy’s thighs. 

“I’m gonna be really busy starting next week…I’m on the prom planning committee, and it’s almost go time. I have to paint a sign this weekend, Will is gonna help me. Apparently I ‘don’t have a creative bone in my body,’ but I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He didn’t mention he was on the committee with Nancy. Didn’t think Billy’d like that much, and it wasn’t super relevant. “It’s just paint. How hard can it be?”

***

“Whoever said that’s a prick, you’re plenty creative,” Billy said, eyebrows furrowed in irritation, eyes on the ceiling while he let Steve fix his curls. “I can help, if you end up needing it. Or want it. Think I’m gonna have a lot more time to myself starting now.”

It was a thought that could’ve easily spiraled and probably would later, but he pushed it aside for now. That was easy to do when Steve was winding his way around him, easy to relax into the bed and spread his legs to make some room for the one between his. 

“Missed this,” he said quietly, voice almost drowned out by the television. He closed his eyes and let his hand move from Steve’s chest to his back, turning sideways into the embrace. “Missed you like this.”

***

Steve smiled against Billy’s throat, continuing to slowly, steadily comb his fingers through the golden hair spread out against the pillow – separating the damp strands. “I’d like that. And yeah, my dad’s kind of a dick. But if you wanted to help, that could be really fun. We could make a day of it – we’re going over to the Byers’. That’s a good thing – right? Having more Billy time.” 

As Billy turned into him, Steve readjusted so that he could meet him chest to chest – that arm still looped over his shoulders, fingers tightening in his hair – slick with shower water. Shivering a little at Billy’s hand on his back. 

“Missed you too.” Steve leaned in and brushed his lips over the very tip of Billy’s nose. Studying how long those eyelashes really were with Billy’s eyes closed, close enough to really catch tiny details like that. He was just so pretty. “But hey I’m gonna be here for a while, and we get to have lots of this. From now on we can have this – all the time, my house or yours.”

***

Billy opened his eyes to get a good look at Steve up close, blinking up at him like he was making sure. Lots of this and all the time sounded sort of like a dream, and so many things had happened in the last 24 hours he felt like he was playing catch up. Something as simple (that wasn’t actually simple) as Neil being out of the picture made everything lighter, happier. 

“All the time?” he asked, rubbing their noses together, staring between Steve’s plush mouth and big puppy dog eyes. “Right now?”

***

Steve blinked back at him, eyes wide and sweet, glancing up once at the door, then back into Billy’s ocean blue eyes. A little smile curled up one corner of his mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“You – wanna? You mean - right now?” He asked, voice dropping down to more of a hushed whisper. Was that what Billy meant? He thought so. Or he was jumping to conclusions. The worry wart voice in the back of his mind told him that it was a seriously shitty idea because Billy had a five inch long gash on his thigh held together by really shitty thread – high enough up that there was no way they couldn’t risk irritating it. 

Steve got a little crease between his eyebrows, thinking about how Billy’d told him he looked like a pug when he did that. “…well I mean, yes, all the time but – your leg.” He said slowly. 

***

“Well, if you just bent me over I don’t think anything would happen to it,” Billy said just as slow, reaching up to run a few fingers between Steve’s eyebrows, trying to smooth it out. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t you miss me?”

His fingers slid into Steve’s hair from his forehead, sighing at something as small as getting to feel just his hair again. The hugs and the small touches, as sweet and supportive and memorable as they were, weren’t anything like this. He batted his eyelashes for good measure even though some of it wasn’t put on at all, that need to have Steve see him not just in the context of ripping his shoulder out or getting sliced with something. 

***

Getting your fingers into Steve Harrington’s hair was a pretty surefire way to get him to do just about anything. His eyelashes fluttered a little as he tilted his head back into Billy’s touch, Adam’s apple jutting out as he swallowed. He had missed Billy. He’d missed that with Billy. He knew his own libido was ridiculous, but - he was already getting hard just at the mention of it. At the tug at his scalp.

“You know I do. I do.” Steve said, swallowing again, throat clicking with the motion. “And…okay, but we have to be careful, yeah? I don’t want to – hurt you.”

His fingers slid out of Billy’s curls to run down the ridges of his spine, like the ebony and ivory of piano keys, playing their way down, down, all the way to Billy’s tailbone to gently cup the curve of his ass under the low hanging, loose sweats.

***

Billy nodded with a sigh that was maybe a little high for his tastes, but one he couldn’t hide. It felt like forever since he’d gotten to have this, something he could just dive headfirst into, and it was intoxicating. The light from the television was playing over Steve’s face and it made him look like some pop art painting, just like those beautiful brush flecks he had everywhere. 

He rolled his hips forward to give Steve more to touch, fingers flexing against his scalp, pulling just a bit to bring their lips together. That felt like it hadn’t happened in ages too so he took that opportunity, kissed like his fucking life depended on it. Opened his lips in encouragement, sighed high in throat, arched closer. He could be quieter this way, hiding in his room, different than the dangerous feeling he had in the library. 

That had a thrill to it but this, this just felt like slipping something comfortable on. Something well worn and loved. 

***

Steve gasped a little against Billy’s lips – tightening his hold on that ass as those hips rolled towards him. He pressed the tips of his fingers into the soft curve there, and kneaded him forward enough into Steve’s hip slotted between his legs. Their mouths met in the middle, Billy kissing him like he’d been dying in the desert, and Steve a convenient Oasis – soothing his parched throat and lips. 

They hadn’t had a really good kiss like this in a while, the kind that felt rushed, needy, desperate. But Steve also wanted to take his time – keeping one hand on Billy’s ass, and lifting the other to cup Billy’s cheek, bracing a thumb beneath his chin – with skin like silk beneath Steve’s fingertips, freshly shaved and clean. Steve poured his love into the kiss, not just the urges of his dick, even if it was already hard and insistent against Billy’s thigh. Which was pretty fast, but. 

He kissed him like a reassurance that Billy was okay, kissed him like a reminder that he could do this, a reminder that Billy hadn't bled out on his living room floor or permanently damaged his shoulder. Kissed him with a new kind of kiss that felt far more stress free than probably thus far in their relationship – because the storm cloud that had been hanging over it had passed, and it was looking like a much brighter, clearer future, whereas it had been more murky and unsure before. It was all soft, eager lips, tongues tangling, and easy smiles from Steve - because he was happy.

There wasn’t as much of a ‘what is going to happen next’ feeling. It was more of an ‘anything can happen next.’ And Steve smiled with it against Billy’s mouth, his relief tangible on his tongue. Revisiting something well known and comfortable with the addition of something new. Rocking his hips gently against Billy’s, brushing straining cocks together, shivering at the sensation. Always careful of Billy’s leg.

***

Billy moaned into the kiss, a low, quiet thing. The feeling of Steve’s hand holding his face in place and the other gripping his ass sent shivers down his spine, had him chasing Steve’s hips with his own. Steve smiling against his mouth made him smile too, Steve’s happiness moving over him like a balm, smoothing away all of his worries. 

“Please,” he whispered, not sure what he was even asking for. 

More, maybe. Anything Steve was willing to give him. 

He slid his hand down Steve’s back and brought it around to the front of his pants, cupping the sizeable bulge there, trapped between them as he kept rutting forward. It was so close, just a few layers of clothing separating him from what he wanted that he gave it a firm squeeze, sighed in relief when he felt Steve’s dick jump against his palm. His own twitched in response, a wet spot forming on his newly owned sweatpants, the filthiness of it making him whine, still asking that question without words this time. 

***

Steve was already panting, breathless from the kiss, making little needy gasps in the back of his throat that only Billy would be able to hear this up close. And when Billy moaned, Steve lapped up the sound from his mouth, felt it vibrate beneath his fingers where he framed that beautiful face. Steve would give anything to Billy – he’d known that for a long while now. Him whispering ‘please’ made Steve want to bend over backwards for him, give him the moon, and all the stars, too.

When Billy got those blunt, squared off fingers around Steve’s dick through the fabric of his sweats his hips jumped, cock pulsing in appreciation as those fingers squeezed. Steve had to swallow a moan of his own, catching at Billy’s lower lip with his teeth, worrying it a little before soothing it with his tongue. 

His own large, slender hand slipped past the hem of Billy’s low hanging drawstring, tugging the knot free, and using the arrow of his natural V to point the way. His fingers wrapped hungrily around the length of Billy’s cock like he’d been waiting to do it for days – weeks, years, forever. It was hot and smooth as excited velvet beneath his palm, and Steve thumbed at the head to spread some of the pre-come before giving it a good few, short strokes – wet and searing under Steve’s fingertips, with just enough of Billy’s own slick to smooth the way. 

“Anything. Anything. Love you - so much. God, you’re so pretty.” Steve whispered into Billy’s mouth, in between swipes of their tongues. Everything lit up bright and surreal with just the light from the television, flashing over them, everything else dark. “Wanna make you feel good. What d’you want, baby?”

***

Billy went boneless at the word pretty, a soft whine leaving his mouth like a request for more. He arched himself up against Steve, hips moving slow but mindlessly as he tried to fuck Steve’s hand. His eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of Steve’s fingers, his own pace picking up a little, thumb digging gently into the slit. 

“Want you to fuck me, want you to bend me over and fuck me,” he breathed, rolling his hips back into the hand on his ass, free hand slowly pushing Steve’s sweats down. “Keep me quiet with one of those perfect hands, fuck me ‘til I can’t see straight. Like it’s yours, like it’s all yours.”

***

Hearing those words out of Billy’s mouth, thumbing into Steve’s slit, made something coil tight in his gut – heating his spine, with something brilliant, like need. He started stroking off the cock in his hand faster, in time with Billy’s own, keeping rhythm.  
He’d do what Billy wanted – leg or not – he’d just be careful with it. 

The hand that was on Billy’s ass kneaded into the meat of it at the request, before Steve pulled his arm back. He stuck his middle finger into his own mouth, until it was dripping with spit, and slipped that hand between Billy’s legs instead – cock in one hand, the other teasing at Billy’s hole, at the tight ring of muscle, wet with spit. 

“You want me right here? ‘till you can’t remember your name? Wanna fuck you so bad, wanna fuck you into the mattress – god I wanna be in you.” Steve’s pace picked up as he worked Billy off, while sliding his wet middle finger in slow – breaching the muscle just up to his knuckle. He needed to grab the lube, spit wasn’t gonna do it, not really. 

He loosened his grip on Billy’s cock, fingers still slick with pre-come, and pulled his face back enough from Billy’s that he could trace his thumb over Billy’s plump, kiss swollen lower lip. 

“You are all mine,” he said, tone hushed. Dark eyes flickered over Billy’s face, all long ebony lashes as he observed his expression. Searching. His thumb slipped past the part of Billy’s lips, sliding the pad of it over his tongue – where he’d asked Steve to keep him quiet. 

***

Billy nodded, everything in him seeming to go loose and pliant at Steve’s words. His eyes felt heavy, heavy like Steve’s thumb inside of his mouth, caressing his tongue almost lovingly. He closed his lips around it, sucking on it like he would’ve been sucking Steve’s cock if he didn’t feel so frozen in place. He was Steve’s, all Steve’s and safe in a new place, one he could be safe in from now on. 

He slipped his hand out of Steve’s sweats to reach back for his own, pushing them down past his ass. His hand brushed Steve’s arm and he whined at the picture that cropped up, Steve’s finger inside of him just inches away. He rocked back into Steve’s hand greedily, knew it wasn’t going to be enough but it was something. 

His mouth was full so he pleaded with his eyes instead, with a hum around Steve’s thumb. He reached for Steve’s sweats next, still trying to push them down further, anything to get closer to his goal. 

***

So really it’s not like Steve had been planning this tonight or something, it just seemed like a convenient place, and – well, as Billy shoved their sweats down, making it easier for Steve to really get his arm further down, Steve rubbed his thumb once more over the roll of Billy’s tongue, before he pulled it out with a wet pop. He searched with it under the pillow beneath their heads, the little bottle of lube he’d shoved under there for a rainy day.

It was so much easier than having to dig around in the stupid drawer. He cracked the top open, and withdrew his fingers from Billy’s ass to slick them up with lube. It was cold, and he worked his fingers to try and warm it up a little. Then he was reaching back between Billy’s legs. His finger slid in far more easily this time, like it was nothing, like Billy was drawing him in greedily. Rocking back into him in time with the thrusts of Steve’s finger, before he was sliding a second one home. 

He leaned in to muffle Billy’s mouth with his own, tongue licking past those soft lips.

***

Billy’s lips parted as easy as fucking breathing, moaning softly into the kiss as his body started a rhythm with Steve’s fingers. His hands were free to roam now with their sweats mostly down, moving over Steve’s chest, groping in spots he liked best; the soft curve of a pec, the tapering line of his waist, the slight softness of his belly. 

He wondered what he looked like, if anyone in the world would even be able to recognize him like this. Fucking himself back on Steve’s fingers and whining into his mouth, grabbing for his cock and stroking it in time with the roll of his hips, face lax with pleasure. It was love, the kind that snaked its way through every nerve ending, made him want to be something else, be soft and good and sweet at the mercy of Steve’s hands. 

***

Their bodies moved against one another for a moment as Steve rutted up into Billy’s hand, simultaneously working Billy open from behind with three fingers now. Getting him loosened up for something a little bigger. 

Steve’s eyes were half hooded in the darkened room, sleepy bedroom eyes, but he was busy admiring the way Billy’s face went soft in pleasure, the way his eyebrows carried no weight, jumping with each sweep of Steve’s fingers. Steve’s mouth melted against his, forming them together like soft wax molds, perfectly fitted together. Swallowing Billy’s moans with an exploratory tongue. 

Then Steve was moving, pulling his fingers from within Billy – still dripping with lube, and wrapped tight around Billy’s hand around his own cock – urging him on, spreading the warmed lube over himself with Billy’s hand guiding the motion – fingers interlocked with fingers. Then he carefully slid Billy’s hand away with his own, tangling their fingers together briefly, giving a tight squeeze. 

He scrambled over Billy’s side, to stretch along his back – with the way he was arranged on his side, the hurt thigh was facing the ceiling, and Steve planned to keep it that way. He pushed Billy’s sweats the rest of the way down, and one hand slid along the inside of that thigh to curve it up , careful of the angry stitches – enough to get his legs parted.

His other arm snaked under Billy’s neck to trace his thumb along that squared off jaw. 

Belly pressed to back, chest to shoulder blades, leaning forward just enough to lick a hot stripe up the back of Billy’s neck, nosing through the curls. Murmuring low in his ear, all hot breath, so as not to be heard. “You still want my hand to keep you quiet, baby?” 

***

Billy was expecting—something else, when he’d told Steve he could bend him over. He was expecting a face in the pillow and his ass in the air but of course Steve made it intimate, put love into every single thing. He had him pressed up against him seemingly everywhere, each bit of skin touching, that big hand holding his face again. 

“Uh huh, I want it,” he said softly, dipping his head down to try and catch a few fingers. Baby flattened him completely, had him looking over his shoulder with parted lips, tongue darting out and staying that way, wide open and ready. 

***

Steve’s fingers were caught up by that eager mouth – he slid them over Billy’s lips, dipping into the wet heat of his mouth to graze over his tongue , knuckles bumping those perfect white teeth. Caressing the hot, slick muscle there. With the other, he knocked his knee under Billy’s thigh to keep his legs open, and guided himself to Billy’s hole. Once he was in position, he locked his fingers against the jut of Billy’s left hip bone – curling against his spine, littering kisses over his the slope of his shoulder – dark eyes staring over it. 

He eased forward by the hips, watching Billy with this intense sort of unfiltered love and care. Like he wanted to take care of him, as he finger fucked his mouth, all hot with too much saliva – salivating over his fingers, and making Steve huff out a breath. Even more so when just the head of his cock was surrounded suddenly by ridiculously tight muscle. His fingers convulsed against Billy’s hip at the sensation – the other hand slipping out of that mouth to create a firm, but gentle seal with his palm over lips – thumb brushing the side of Billy’s nose. 

Steve’s eyes flinched closed before he started to ease forward, awash in pleasure – working in slow, then easing back out, forward again. Rocking into him from behind at a gentle pace to get him used to Steve’s dick. 

He gently bit into the ball of Billy’s shoulder, humming there, teeth vibrating against skin. Eyelashes dark against his cheeks.

***

The arm not trapped underneath Billy slid up, fingers digging into the bedding when Steve started to move. The hand over his mouth felt so fucking perfect, erotic and sweet just like the look he’d given him before those big brown eyes squeezed closed. His own fluttered, seeing nothing at all for a minute as he whined into Steve’s palm. 

I love you, iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou was in every breath, every little muffled gasp and mewling sound. He pushed his ass back into Steve’s thrusts as that sharp ache dulled to something he was eager to chase, the slick sound of Steve’s cock sliding in and out of him urging him on. It was all he could really hear once he tried to pick up the pace, his quieted, desperate sounds and the gentle thud of skin on skin. 

***

Once Steve had bottomed out, he paused for a heartbeat, until Billy was rocking back down onto him with a desperate edge. Eased the knee out from between his legs, now that he was all the way in - instead, he gently tucked his thigh over Billy’s, below where the healing wound was. 

Then perfectly curled around Billy’s back, he started actually, really fucking up into him. Hips arching against that amazing ass. Thrusting with a building crescendo, steadily building his rhythm – fucking him deeper, harder, sweeter with each sweep of his hips. His palm was damp with the humidity of Billy’s breath, of airless iloveyous whispered there. 

“Love you, love you, too, baby – Billy – love you, missed you, missed you – you’re perfect, perfect for me.” Steve was breathing into his shoulder – close enough to his ear that only Billy would be able to hear the words hiding beneath each breath. Beneath the squelch of lube, and the thump of their bodies connecting. “Billy.”

Billy felt so fucking amazing Steve couldn’t really wrap his mind around it - toes already clenching with pleasure, hips shaking, stuttering into each timed thrust.

***

Billy lifted his leg up higher and whined so high he was worried Steve’s hand wouldn’t be enough to muffle the sound, white hot pleasure coursing its way up his spine. It was just right, despite the burn he knew his leg would feel from the effort, but fuck it was worth it. His fingers dug hard into the sheets, hand shaking and this time not from nerves, not from exhaustion either. 

It was from how perfect everything was, how safe he finally felt. In this moment, with Steve everywhere, filling him up and breaking him to pieces, in a home with no dangers lurking down the hallway, with people who loved him or at least cared about him. The whines kept going and didn’t let up, pretty little sounds he’d never made until he’d had Steve inside of him, those hands on him. 

His cock gave a hard twitch as the pace got rougher, his hand sliding down toward his cock and stopping short, gripping the sheets again as another expert thrust hit his prostate. Every inch of him shuddered, went loose except his hips, which chased that angle desperately, eyes screwed shut. 

***

When Steve found the spot that must be making Billy see figurative stars – having a much better understanding of just how good it felt, now – Steve used his grip on Billy’s hip to pull him back into the angle, collaborating with Billy’s punch drunk hips on the matter. He could feel the vibrations of Billy’s whining, through the skin pressed against a broad chest - feel it in his own lungs, which was certainly very interesting. It urged Steve on, setting the stakes higher, the bar higher – he thought he’d tilted Billy back into him just right as he drove forward again, aiming for Billy’s pleasure. 

The tight muscles fluttering around his cock definitely did wonders for his own – had him swallowing grunts and moans and clenching his jaw so hard the hinge of it ached. Pure rapture was lighting up his spine, flooding his stomach, making it tighten so good, sending gooseflesh over his entire body. 

His hand didn’t stray to Billy’s cock – one busy holding over Billy’s mouth, the other using that hip as a grip to drive into that wild fucking pleasure button that God probably thought was a huge joke, if such a person existed. 

“C’mon, baby – come for me – I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re mine.” Steve was breathing into Billy’s ear, lapping at his skin, pressing blind, mindless kisses into his neck, his shoulder, the bumps of his spine. 

He could feel how Billy’s hip was quivering under his fingers, and his own were starting to match that level of ‘close.’ He used the hand at Billy’s mouth to pull his head back, really exposing that sensitive throat - enough that he could suck into the side of his neck beneath his earlobe, really working to pull a mark into the skin. Thrusting into him from behind as he kept his hand tight.

***

You’re mine. 

Billy nodded, the motion becoming more mindless as the seconds passed. His whole body was shaking and he sort of lost his concept of time after that, eyes rolling back into his head. It felt like he might unravel completely, like Steve was reaching inside of him and yanking that little thing right out, gripping it tightly in his hand. Steve had him. 

He came so hard he saw white, ass smacking back into the body behind him, lips parted up against the palm keeping him quiet. He lifted a shaking hand off of the bedding to reach behind him, fingers resting in Steve’s hair as he worked a borderline painful mark into his neck. Like Billy was his to have, his to mark up, his to push and pull just where he wanted, his to keep safe. 

You’re mine. 

***

When he finally felt like he’d succeeded in getting Billy off, and marked his skin, Steve finally felt like he was able to let go – because honestly he’d already been so close, but he’d wanted to keep Billy feeling good as long as he could last.

A few more good pumps into Billy’s ass did it, before his eyes were rolling up and slipping closed as he huffed helpless,, gaspy sounds into Billy’s hair as his hips mindlessly drove forward, chasing his pleasure – however, he had enough sense to pull out at the last second, coming on the sheets instead. 

He’d somehow pressed his forehead against the back of Billy’s neck, hard, dotted in perspiration. Breathing hard into the dip of his shoulder blades as they both went still. He eased his hand up off of Billy’s mouth to gently stroke his knuckles against his cheek, feeling totally fucked out with that bones-made-of-jelly kind of good buzz. 

Simply laying on the bed, breathing hard, eyes closed. Not moving his forehead from the back of Billy’s neck, nestled under his longer curls. 

He couldn’t believe how in love he was with the boy before him - this boy that whimpered like that under his hand, whining so sweetly, who was soft and warm and bright and fun. Steve smiled against his neck, pressing a soft, chaste kiss there.

“Love you,” he sighed, spooning Billy from behind, left arm tucking around his waist to curl over his belly. Tugging him closer. “So much.”

***

Billy thought maybe he said it back, though it only really came out as a high sigh of a sound, a slurring of syllables he could finally hear now that he didn’t have a hand clapped over his mouth. He nodded for confirmation after, easing his head onto the pillow and letting his body rest limply against Steve’s. 

He thought he’d felt okay and relaxed after the shower but this blew it out of the water, made him feel wrung out like a fucking towel. His leg didn’t even hurt, Steve had been careful, Steve was always careful. Even now, Steve’s body insistent up against his own, he was careful. 

“Night, sweetheart,” he whispered after a minute, words still a little smushed together. “Safe, love you for making it safe.”

***

Steve stayed curled around Billy for the night, effectively spooning him from behind. At some point he’d dragged a blanket over them that had been part of what he’d unpacked from the boxes, so that they wouldn’t get cold – and he stayed nuzzled up behind him just like that. Tucked away under the blanket, tucked away from the world. 

That is, until the distinct, sizzling smell of breakfast drifted all the way into the back room from the kitchen. One eye cracked open, blearily, registering where they were – he’d forgotten that they were here, in Hop’s trailer. It was definitely new. Steve burrowed into the back of Billy’s neck, amidst that glossy mane, and nosed against the base of Billy’s skull.

“Babe…” Steve groaned into Billy’s hair. “Breakfast…guh.…” He was still pretty much in zombie mode, and he twisted his eyes shut and tightened his hold around Billy’s waist. 

***

Billy didn’t register Steve’s voice, dead to the world with no surprise wake ups in store for him. He turned around in his sleep, butting his head into Steve until he’d successfully pushed his head under his chin, curled up in a tight little ball. For once he didn’t dream about anything at all, nothing lurking in the dark, no bad memories to draw on. 

“Billy! Steve! Breakfast is ready for you if you’d like some.”

That he did hear, Susan’s voice quiet but carrying through the door, along with the soft rapping of her knuckles against it. He let out a huff and opened his eyes, face still tucked up against Steve’s neck, arms curled between their chests. He was in his new house and he’d fallen asleep with his boyfriend, about as close to perfect as he could think. 

“Up now?”

***

“Mmmmmm no.” Steve smiled a little as Billy curled into him, headbutting under his chin. Steve readjusted around him seamlessly, like sand reforming around a wave, and kept his arms looped around Billy’s shoulders, hugging him tight. Pressing his cheek down into the crown of his head, and keeping his eyes closed. “but ‘m hungry” he said like it was a pretty great travesty that they had to get up, because it was. 

“You up?” He stirred against Billy, rubbing his cheekbone against that mess of bedhead curls. 

“Hey lovebirds c’mon or it’ll get cold!” Max called from somewhere deeper in the trailer, probably the living room. “We don’t have all day out here!”

***

Billy had half a mind to flip Max off from a completely different room, sleepily convinced she’d at least be able to sense it. Instead he nodded against Steve’s chest, curling up hard for a few seconds before making himself push away, both hands on Steve to force himself to sit up. He figured he could probably get away with the sweats he’d worn the night before but their proximity to his come made it iffy at best, eyes scanning the room as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching back to playfully pull at Steve’s arm in an attempt to get him sitting too. “Where’d you put all my jeans?”

***

Steve made a disgruntled sound at having to be awake and alive at some ungodly hour (when he checked his watch it was 10:30) and frowned at him, brunette locks sticking up all wild around his head like he’d gotten touched with static electricity. He smiled a little at Billy basically pulling him into a sitting position though – trying to hide the smile under a frown. 

“’m up, ‘m up. Um…jeans? Oh, I folded them, they’re in the dresser. But hey, why don’t you just wear another pair of sweats today – I put two other pairs in there, too. That way your leg can breathe.” That thought actually really did wake him up, and called him to action. He clambered out of the bed – he’d pulled his own sweats up some time in the night, but he kicked them off to be washed.

“Just throw your clothes in a pile there and I’ll ask your step-mom about the wash, yeah?” He scrubbed his hands over his face vigorously to try and shock himself awake. “Hang on…” He dug around in the drawer of the dresser until he located the first aid kit he'd tucked in there. “We’ve gotta clean it first, should’ve last night, but…well, sorry. Got distracted.” 

His lips quirked up at Billy, eyebrows waggling at the word ‘distracted.’ But he actually did feel bad – it was more important than them fucking around, infection was serious business. Especially if it was from some nasty dinner plate.

***

Billy pulled the blankets away to give Steve full view of his leg, messy, angry stitches and all. He looked down himself and wrinkled his nose at the sight but tried to stay still, his good leg swinging despite himself. He watched Steve work then, only grimaced for a second at another round of Bactine this time and let him place a bandage securely over the spot. Probably should’ve done that before but, well—distracted. 

He rolled his eyes as Steve slipped him into another pair of sweats but didn’t argue, a little too happy to have somebody fussing over him like this. When he approached the door it was kind of weird, seeing it still locked and shut, but maybe that’s what it was going to be like now. Actual privacy, some actual fucking agency. He unlocked it and pulled Steve along with him with that in mind, keeping their fingers lazily tangled together. 

“Good morning boys,” Susan said from the table, a fond little smile on her face as she glanced quickly at their hands and then away. “Have a seat, today’s all about relaxing. Isn’t that right, Max?”

***

Steve’d also changed – with a freshly laundered pair of sweats and a t-shirt from his duffel bag that said ‘Hawkins Athletic Dept.’ He followed after Billy, connected with interlaced fingers, feeling a lot better after having cleaned up Billy’s leg even if it made his stomach twist to look at his own haphazard stitches. 

He settled down at the table alongside Billy, also pleased that there didn’t seem to be as much of a fuss over sitting at the table as last night – watching Billy slowly but surely adjust to the new surroundings and situation. 

They had glasses of orange juice already poured out for them, and an array of breakfast food on the table – the fancy kind that Steve usually associated with the diner, not eating at home.

“Morning, Mrs. Hargrove,” Steve smiled at her, still seeming pretty drowsy. He hoped there was also coffee. 

“Yup. Relaxing. We’re gonna do nothing but lay around all day. There’s supposed to be a Murder She Wrote Marathon.” Max grinned at her mom, ‘cause her mom loved Murder She Wrote, crunching down on a crispy piece of bacon. “So how’d you sleep?” She turned her attention on Billy, chewing away. 

***

Billy frowned in confusion at the question, almost narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t the old house though, maybe it was just a real question. He remembered how everything had been left between them the night before and stabbed his fork into the eggs in front of him, chewing thoughtfully. 

“Like a baby, kinda weird,” he said after a swallow, glancing at Susan after shooting Max an I will kill you look. “Do we have coffee? Can pretty much guarantee Steve won’t be human until he has some.”

Susan smiled at the boys, taking in Steve’s wild hair and groggy face before moving to bring the whole coffee pot and a few empty mugs to the table. Her hand settled on Billy’s arm for a second like it had during dinner the night before, another soft squeeze before it retreated, her face nice and easy like Billy hadn’t looked momentarily confused at that too. 

“Anyway, slept fine. Nurse Steve bandaged the leg up, looks kind of irritated but I thought I’d just show Hopper whenever he comes by again. Doesn’t feel any different, better I guess,” he continued with a shrug, gulping down the orange juice like his life depended on it. “You put up your Tony Hawk posters yet? Max thinks he’s dreamy, Steve.”

***

“Bless you,” Steve murmured as he accepted the coffee mug and the entire pot to start pouring the black coffee into each mug. Then he started scooping from the sugar bowl into the mug before cradling it to his chest, breathing in the steam and blinking at his plate. A little out of it. Billy wasn’t wrong.

Max had kind of been waiting to ask her question since she got up, and really, the suspicious look Billy threw her was about right – not uncalled for – and she supposed it had something to do with feeling pissy with her brother after what happened last night, when she’d totally just been trying to play it cool and he’d gone and thrown a little bitch-fit, or and it might have had something to do with trying to actually give him the hint that her room was NEXT DOOR and THIN WALLS and all and GROSS. But it was also kind of funny, so. 

“Yeah. Bet you slept REAL good.” Max snorted around her bacon strip, half choking on a piece and started coughing. Steve slapped her on the back as he sipped at his coffee, apparently unfazed. Though he did make a note of trying to be more quiet – although he thought they’d done a pretty good job…

“Too funny for your own good, man.” He murmured into his drink.

“Yeah,” Max wheezed. Then she gaped at Billy, blue eyes huge, affronted. Betrayed. “Dude!” 

Steve laughed a little into his coffee. “Dreamy huh?” 

“UH I don’t think he’s dreamy, he’s talented.” She insisted, cheeks flushing red as she crammed another piece of bacon into her mouth like the last one hadn’t killed her prematurely.

***

While Steve looked unaffected Billy shoved another good forkful of eggs into his mouth, mostly to keep from throttling Max over the table. Susan looked very interested in her breakfast and might even have been grinning behind her mug, something Billy had never fucking seen before. 

“Yeah, sure, him being like seventeen and from San Diego too’s got nothin’ to do with it I bet,” he said with his mouth still full, talking out of the corner of it, fork pointed accusingly at her across the table. “Max totally wants to kickflip down the aisle with that dude.”

“Just four more years and I’ve got no say in it,” Susan said, her voice teasingly cheerful, the hand not gripping the mug reaching out to tuck some of Max’s fiery hair behind her ear. Then she turned her attention on Steve, a little more serious. “Does it really look alright? We could go to the doctor today if we need to.”

***

Max folded her arms, glaring at her family members across the table, gaze swinging between them like they were at a tennis match. “Why are you guys trying to embarrass me in front of Steve!” She hissed, wiping at her mouth with a napkin and looking down when her mom brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “And it’s not just because he’s beautiful, god…” Max stuck out her lower lip and looked away like a moody pre-teen. 

Steve was grinning a little and leaning back in his seat, and really, maybe later he’d feel a little more mortified over Max’s little jab at her brother but for now it just rolled off him like water. He was still half asleep, like it was an excuse. He enjoyed their banter, the back and forth between them, the familiar way they spoke to one another and the brother sister dynamic between Billy and Max that he rarely got to see. It felt like family. Steve wondered, distantly, when he had to go home. Knew he was the outsider.

He glanced up at Susan from where he’d been draining his sugar sweet coffee, eyebrows arching above his mug as he hummed against the ceramic. He set it down, head tilted with thought, and selected a few pancakes from the stack. “It didn’t look too bad, but...I dunno, it was a little red. I’d keep an eye on it.” 

***

Billy smiled with his tongue between his teeth and gently nudged at Max’s shin with one socked foot like he was trying to get her attention. He didn’t want that whatever from her today, wanted her to know it could be like it was before. Or at the very least he could try to make it that way. 

“Uh, excuse me. Right here. You could ask me, the person with the leg,” he said, waving his fork between Susan and Steve before pointing at himself. Then he seemed contemplative, leaning forward a little. “Your head okay?”

“Yes, but you’re—well, ornery,” Susan replied, clearly hiding the urge to do something close to snickering. At Billy’s question she nodded, a bit of that meek personality coming right back out. “Mhm, had it looked at before we settled in yesterday. It’s okay, don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, well, somebody should,” Billy said, a little embarrassed but still earnest, looking down at his plate to miss that misty eyed look Susan got whenever he did something nice. 

***

They were all the way two towns over to go to the mall. It’d been two weeks since the incident with Billy’s dad, two weeks since they were moved to a new place, and two weeks since things had started to feel normal. Steve was back home, and they were going to classes again. Everything was settling into place. But Steve’d gotten it into his head that he wanted to go to the mall about 45 minutes away, the one he’d technically already asked Billy out on a date there a while back. But he needed to grab a birthday present for Billy, and so Max was along for the ride – she’d distract Billy at some point so that Steve could grab the presents and stash them in the trunk of the BMW. 

They were striding through the brightly lit, fluorescent mall – all bright, chipper neon hues and solid white pillars. Steve wondered if the new Starcourt mall opening soon in Hawkins would look a little similar. Thank god they wouldn’t have to drive so fuckin’ far to buy anything that wasn’t available on their tiny little main street, which was honestly, most things. Steve was done up in a nice button down polo and khakis.His hair was a perfect coif, he thought, and he’d worn a little extra cologne. This was their first like, date date that wasn’t at the diner, even if Max was kind of stuck as their third wheel. He was thinking a lot about holding Billy’s hand in the theater. He’d been thinking about it since last night. 

Steve paused for a moment when he noticed Billy stopping, looking in a display window to a jewelry shop. Steve smiled a little and took a few steps back to glance in the case at what Billy was admiring. 

“What’re you lookin’ at?” 

“If you guys keep looking in every store window we’re gonna miss the whole movie.” Max scowled at them, bouncing on her toes. “C’moooon you’re worse than two girls. I still wanna get popcorn and jujubees.” 

***

Billy rolled his eyes briefly at Max before pointing into the window, index finger almost touching the glass as he gestured. It was a pair of earrings, dangling ones that were made of some kind of crystal. The closer he looked he saw gold wrapped around the top of the crystals, a tiny dot of what was probably a diamond on it. 

“Pretty,” he said, just the corner of his mouth ticking up. They made him think about how he felt whenever Steve used that word to describe him, more and more often nowadays. Like something precious, like he’d hoped to be seen when he used to rummage a little through Susan’s makeup. Not just rough edges, maybe something special. 

He shrugged and kept walking, half expecting Max to drag him by the hand. He could practically see her fighting the urge to do it, kicked his foot out to dead leg her in the back of the knee and cackled when she flipped him off. 

“Excited, been waiting to do something hokey like this,” Billy said, the with you completely silent but implied in the way he grinned. 

***

“Hmm.” Steve flashed him a pair of white canines and perfect teeth, the golden glow of the store window to display the jewelry lighting up those dark chocolate eyes like coins. “Like you,” he agreed, nodding a little, head tipped enough to give Billy a cute look, a curl furling over one eye before he brushed it back. 

But as Max practically urged them on with the powers of her mind like El, they started after her - and Steve kept the earrings in mind. Wincing at the bickering siblings.

Steve’s eyebrows arched up at the hokey comment – delighted that Billy’d been waiting for it, hearing the unsaid ‘with you,’ but also a little affronted.

“I mean, hey, I dunno that I’d call it hokey. It may not be California grade, but this is pretty high class stuff compared to Hawkins, I’ll have you know.” Steve laughed at Billy, happy enough that his eyes crinkled at the corners, teasing him. “There’s an honest to god Orange. Julius, okay? That’s a big deal!” Steve freakin’ loved Orange Julius. “I freakin’ love Orange Julius.”

***

Steve’s face, as always, couldn’t keep Billy’s false brattiness up for long. Looking at Steve was like staring at the fucking sun, all encompassing and bright and overwhelming. He had to look forward after a second and it wasn’t just because Max was stopping and starting in front of him, trying to get him to trip on himself. 

“You’re just too precious for words, you know that?” he said, ignoring Max’s feigned gagging sounds to bump their shoulders together so briefly no one else would’ve noticed. No one but the person the gesture was aimed for. 

When they finally pushed through the double doors to the theatre Billy whistled low, taking in the line already formed. Seemed like maybe Steve was right, maybe people in Indiana were this bored. He’d be bored too, happily even. 

***

Steve glanced up at him in surprise, color washing over his cheeks and rushing up his freckled neck, and he tried to will it down and away, pursing his lips to try not and smile like an idiot. Even max’s gagging sounds couldn’t put a damper on it, the warm light that expanded in his chest. 

“Th-thanks.” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair like a total girl. 

Jesus he was at the mall with Billy, going to see a movie with Billy – and okay, Max too, but – with BILLY, and it was a date, a real date and they were going to see a funny movie and eat popcorn and maybe their fingers would brush when they both reached into the popcorn at the same time and they could both drink out of the same straw and – 

Steve blinked as they pushed through the doors into the theater, glancing around. He made an impressed sound in the back of his throat.

“Woah this is way better than The Hawk. Holy shit is that a soda machine? They have way more snacks and stuff too…”  
Steve led the way to the ticket counter. “Three for Beverly Hills Cop, please.” The girl gave him a bored look, cracked her gum. “That’ll be nine bucks.” 

Steve slid over a twenty dollar bill, nodding with a ‘thanks’ and handed the change back to Billy. “Can you be in charge of snacks? I forgot my jacket, in the car. I get cold in movie theaters, so – I’ll be right back?” Well really Steve was always kind of cold, he ran that way. 

He glanced at Max for backup. 

***

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll get all the good shit,” Max said with a nod, swiping the change out of Billy’s hand and charging forward to the concession stands. 

Billy had no choice but to follow her, watching her grab an unreasonably huge bucket of popcorn and a bunch of candy. It was nice seeing her like this, happy and giddy with a pep in her step even if she’d never admit to it. It felt...normal. Everything had just felt so fucking normal the past two weeks. Breakfast as a family, dinners at his new house with Steve usually sitting in the spot right next to him. Getting caught up in each other’s bodies without any worries about sneaking in or out, no fears niggling in the back of his mind. 

Normal. 

***

Steve tried to really hurry. He already had an idea of what he needed to grab – and which store to go to, since he’d been here a while back. He swung by the Radioshack first, to grab the stereo, which made his heart hurt if he thought about it too hard. The Radioshack in Hawkins had closed after Bob had…passed. Been eaten. You know. Steve tried not to dwell. He picked out the perfect Realistic brand stereo with a built in tape deck and record player, even with an AM and FM radio tuner. It had built in speakers, so you didn’t have to connect some. 

Then, kind of as an afterthought – it hadn’t been on the list, but…he swung by the jewelry store and had the sales clerk box up a set of those earrings. He didn’t give much thought to the price really – but they were definitely studded with a diamond at the top. It was Billy’s 18th birthday – he wanted it to be special. He’d had a shit year. Maybe the next one would be better – Steve knew it would be. 

He hid the presents away in the back trunk of the Beamer, a little leery of leaving those expensive ass earrings, but he had nowhere else to put them. Then he booked it back to the theater. He ducked into their theater, #9, with his jacket over his arm and ticket stub in hand, peering around for them, but it was already dark and the previews had started. He couldn’t see shit.

***

“Oh my god, will you relax? It’s not like he left us,” Max whispered, smacking softly at Billy’s leg which was, of course, jiggling furiously. 

Billy ignored her in favor of craning his neck, watching out for a wild head of hair reflected off of the titles passing by on screen. He finally spotted Steve and whistled quietly, waving at him like a fucking dork until he finally made his way over. The second he got close Billy took his denim jacket off of the seat he’d saved, that small and private smile on his face. 

“Hi,” he whispered, shaking his head distractedly at Max when she offered him popcorn. Much better things to look at. 

***

“Hey,” Steve whispered right back, sinking into the seat Billy had saved for him, giddy and breathless with his mad dash from the car. He shrugged into his grey wool peacoat. “Sorry – did I miss anything good?” He leaned over to whisper against the shell of Billy’s ear, so he wasn’t bugging the shit out of anybody by talking in the theater. It was only the previews anyway. 

He smiled up at Billy, nice and close in the dark, a little below eye level from leaning over too close. He purposefully swept his arm past his boyfriend, reaching into his personal space to grab a few pieces of popcorn from the massive bucket by Max. Popped a few pieces into his mouth. “Thanks for grabbing the stuff, Max.” And for keeping an eye on Billy while I grabbed his birthday present(s).

***

“No problem,” Max said cheerfully, her mouth full to the brim with popcorn. “My pleasure.”

Billy looked between them before throwing his hands up, dramatically shushing them as the opening credits started. They were always doing shit like that now, these weird conspiratorial looks or heavy sentences that sounded simple but might not be. In any other circumstance he would’ve been suspicious, maybe pissed, but it was good to get to watch Steve being liked. Not that he’d had any problems with that before, but it was still kind of comforting, knowing people saw what he did. 

In all honesty he didn’t pay all that much attention to the movie. He’d actually seen it a little while ago at the Hawk on his own but he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity, Max as the third wheel or not. They were the two people he liked best, felt something close to real around. It was definitely worth it when Steve’s hand snuck under and across the arm rest to find his, their fingers lacing together like they belonged with each other. A date, an actual date, was a lot more attention grabbing. Even if he did, maybe, dance to the theme song just to see if and when Max would put her hands over her face in mortification. 

“That shit was awesome,” Max bellowed, trailing just a foot or two in front of them, pushing her way through the crowd to the fresh air outside and paving the way for an exit route. “That chase in the beginning? When Zach got his ass blasted? So sick.”

“Super sick,” Billy said, smiling despite his teasing. The memory of Steve’s hand was fresh in his mind, had him itching to grab it for himself this time. He thought maybe the look on his face would do it for now, open and happy just for the person next to him. 

***

“Is Beverly Hills seriously like that?” Steve’d laughed as they got towards the mall entrance. It was really late, so most of the mall had emptied out while they’d been in the theater – their showing had been the last one, so it was practically just them, with a few other stragglers from the show heading out the doors ahead of them. The stores were all shut up, with the fence-gate things pulled down.

“Oh! Billy, Crane Game, I swear I’ll win it this time.” Max said, pointing out this gnarly looking crane game with stuffed animals and shit that you could never win anything out of. “Steve?” Max said, giving him her best give-me-money look. He usually just got it at the arcade, so this was new. Steve rolled his eyes heavenward, then slid his wallet out to hand her a handful of quarters. 

“Knock yourself out.”

“Awesome, I’m gonna do it this time! This is the time. Just watch.” She ran over to the game.

Steve watched her go with mild amusement, then turned his eyes on the one he wanted to look at most. Billy looked so good tonight – he had his special, fancy date hair, which Steve usually saw him wear at parties, with this special little corkscrew curl over his forehead. He seemed shinier than usual, and the unbuttoned dip in his shirt made Steve want to touch, his eyes so much bluer in the fluorescent lights of the mall. And Steve’d gotten to hold his hand like lovers for the past two hours, so, he was pretty jazzed about it.

Steve gave Billy this secret smile, his gaze flitting down to that soft, perfect pink mouth, and he licked over his own lower lip. The crane game was making some kind of weird alien spaceship sounds and Max was yelling at it, joggling the joystick. Steve’d given her enough quarters to keep her busy for a minute. 

***

Billy let himself be lead to a sliver of space by the double doors, visions of Steve’s mouth dancing before his eyes. He was perfect, everything was fucking perfect. He reached out and tugged at the sleeve of Steve’s peacoat, pulling him in for a brief kiss. Even that felt perfect, this small moment of their lips meeting, just barely over the line of chaste because neither of them could ever help stepping over it. Not around each other. 

He registered a razor sharp pain at his scalp, the pain of someone pulling him back by his hair. The sound that left his mouth was one of surprise, his hand reaching back to dislodge the one in his hair when it suddenly dropped. He knew that hand, knew the beige coat he saw in his peripherals, and went limp. Barely fought when he felt some of his hair get ripped out, the hand digging in again for better purchase, his boots squeaking on the tile below him. 

Then there was the familiar feeling of a fist hitting his face, the slice of a ring and then he couldn’t see anything at all, his vision swamped by something hot and wet in his eyes. He did struggle some then, fear propelling him to at least try, to at least say run. 

***

Neil’d been waiting. It wasn’t difficult to figure out where the Harrington boy lived – this was a small town. And if the school office staff was keeping him from his boy, there were other ways to find out where he was. So he waited. Watched as the Camaro pulled up, as Billy got out – and that was almost enough to spur Neil out of the truck, which idled around the side o the block. But then Maxine got out, too, and that gave him pause for a moment. Then they were scrambling into that brick red Beamer of that homo babysitter, and driving off god knows where. So Neil followed. Figured, maybe he could catch him in the act – really get the proof he needed. 

He was a patient man. 

He waited. Waited as the sun dipped low, and they didn’t come out. Waited as darkness crept in, and they didn’t come out. Waited until the mall closed, and still no sign of them. That’s when Neil Hargrove jumped out of his truck, slamming the door shut behind him. He walked towards the mall entrance, found the door to be locked. But they were still inside he knew that much. The BMW was still there, the one he’d seen that boy loading stuff into the trunk of. Neil watched through the doors, tucked into the shadows, waiting. It didn’t take much longer, really. He saw them walking down the corridor with Maxine – his son and that fag. 

A few people were ahead of them – swinging out of the doors from the inside. Neil caught one so that it wouldn’t close behind them, knuckles caught around the edge, twisted tight as he glared through the glass. It happened faster than he’d have liked – the boys swung into a little space almost right next to the doors, right before his eyes, like some sort of sadistic show. He saw their lips meet, and something red and black oozed over his eyes, whiting out his vision with a backwash of rage.

His son – his SON – there was nothing more to be done, he’d done what he could by the boy, but he was a failure and there was no fixing that about William. Some people just came out wrong. Fucked in the head. And they needed to be put down. The humane way. 

Neil swung into the mall, making a direct beeline for the boys – kissing – against the wall. A disgrace to the name Hargrove. He got a good hold on Billy’s long hair – it was an easy handle, he’d told him to cut it before, but he never listened – never – really yanking him away from that filthy display. The punch came easy, and it came hard, his military ring glinting as he caught the edge of Billy’s forehead. 

“I’m done. I’m done putting up with your homo bullshit, boy! You hear me! This was it!” The last straw, as it were. He spit in Billy’s face. 

These past two weeks, and one too many beers, had all added up to this moment. His wife, daughter, and son gone – fucked off to who knew where. And now his son was making out with a faggot in broad daylight. 

“Necking out here with your faggot whore for the whole world to see?” Neil hissed like a viper, yanking Billy around by his fruity-ass hair again, really getting a better grip to pull him around. “You face me like a man.” 

Then he used his dominant hand, the one not caught up in that hair, to slam a fist into Billy’s stomach – to really knock the wind out of him, making him see some sense. His fist spattered in blood from the boy’s head – head wounds bled like a bitch, but it was probably nothing, not yet anyway. But by hell, he was gonna make it into something.

That babysitter was scrabbling at his back, trying to pull him away, getting fingers on his coat – pulling at the fabric. 

“Get the fuck away from him!” Steve gasped.

Neil used the elbow of his dominant arm to pound a sharp elbow back into the kid’s face, getting him to back off while he finished with his kid, then that faggot was next. Steve’s head rocked back on his neck as his hand went to his nose, an immediate flood of blood pouring from his nose, but he blinked around it and threw himself back at Neil Hargrove, trying to pull him away from Billy again. But Neil was like a rabid dog with a bone, and he wasn’t gonna let go.

He grabbed Billy by the scruff of his jacket and bodily slammed him down onto the faux marble tiles of the mall. Some other people were walking by, on their way out of the movies, and they were screaming at each other, calling out to call the cops – there was a payphone not far. 

Once he had Billy on the ground, he was swinging his leg back and forward with a solid ‘thwump’ of his steel toed boot into body, and for good measure, he did it again until he heard a satisfying ‘crack.’ 

“No son of mine is gonna be a goddamn queer, you hear me, William!? You can’t say I didn’t try, boy – just weren’t born right. And sometimes you gotta put something wrong out of it’s misery.” 

Steve was horrified – gushing blood down his front as he inserted himself in between father and son, arms spread out as he violently pushed Neil away, shoved him again until his back slammed against the wall. 

“Leave him alone! There’s nothing wrong with him, there’s something wrong with you, asshole!” He shouted, voice cracking. 

***

Max’s head whipped around at the sound of Steve’s voice, the claw game completely abandoned in an instant. Neil was—Billy’s face was covered in blood and he moved like a limp doll in Neil’s hands, hitting the ground with a sound that made Max feel like she was going to puke. People started to scream and the stress and violence swirled around her, seemed to make time stand still. 

She could hear sirens somewhere in the distance, people holding the exit doors open, the sound flooding in. It didn’t cover up the sound of something cracking, cracking again until Steve finally got Neil off of his—son, his son. Only then could Max get closer, Neil’s back turned to her as she dropped to her knees by Billy. 

Billy sputtered and coughed, curled up in the fetal position, one arm stretching across the floor toward Steve. Or at least where he thought Steve might be, sounds coming out of him that reminded him of a dislocated shoulder only worse, only louder. Someone’s hand touched his back and he flinched, the movement sending sharp and white hot pain into his ribs, his skull. 

“Billy, it’s Max, it’s just me,” she said, hands hovering over her brother, not sure where to touch or if she even should. “Help is coming, somebody’s coming. Somebody come here.”

Billy tried to say help and Steve but they came out slurred and sort of wet, the taste of copper bitter on his tongue. He felt like more people might’ve started moving closer but he couldn’t see very well and what he could see was wobbling in his vision, kind of like being drunk. It wasn’t normal, something bad was happening and Neil was here. He was here and he was going to kill him, put him out of his misery. 

“S’ve,” he tried again, hearing the voices of people he didn’t know, voices that weren’t the one he was trying to reach. 

***

Steve didn’t even see it coming – the right hook was almost immediate, there was no time to dodge, nothing. He staggered back, the left side of his eye socket feeling like it was exploding, felt like when he’d been hit by Jonathan hard enough to burst blood vessels – but so much WORSE. This was a grown ass man, and he hit harder than Billy, holy shit. Neil shoved Steve out of the way like he was nothing, dizzy and reeling from the hit. And the fucker was fast.

Neil was working himself up, absolutely spitting mad at this point, and he was on that brink of rage where he didn’t really know what he was doing. He was nothing but momentum carrying him forward now, needing to prove a point, needing to end it - end the madness his son had gotten himself into. If he could even call him that.

He got back to Billy, bellowing at Maxine to ‘MOVE!’ Then he knelt down to snatch Billy up by the hair, sharply rapping his head down against the tile. He got a blunt, dry hand around his throat as he twisted him over onto his back, squeezing, squeezing tight – on an absolute war path.

He’d keep on squeezing until those boots stopped kicking against the tile, once those hands stopped flailing, and the light of life left those pansy pretty eyes. Too much like a girl’s, Neil’d always thought. Especially as a child. That hair made it worse. He’d squeeze until that pretty, girly face turned red, until his eyes went dark, until – he felt something give - 

Steve was hauling at his back, trying to pull him off, wrapping a hand around Neil’s wrist, digging nails into his forearm, trying to undo his grip, screaming at him to let go! – but it needed more than that – more, until there were other people – stragglers from the movie – gathering to help. 

Two other men Steve didn’t know wrapping around Neil’s waist, and his shoulders to help Steve yank him away. Get his hand off of Billy’s throat. The two guys were big – holding Neil back even as he fought, kicking, and spitting down at Billy and Steve, actual globs of saliva, an absolute mess - screaming the word ‘FAGS!’ – Steve flinched back and down over Billy like a shield, breathing hard, trembling fingers desperately soothing over his bruising throat, swiping blood from his eyes, searching his face. 

“Oh my god – god, Billy? BILLY breathe, breathe – please breathe – ?!“ 

Was he breathing?! Christ he didn’t think he was breathing – Steve blinked rapidly, trying to think back to being on the swim team, when he’d been CPR certified back in freshman year. He put his ear down over Billy’s mouth, trying to determine if he was breathing, his cheeks damp with salty tears and inky red blood. 

***

“He’s—Steve he’s not breathing Steve he’s not breathing,” Max said, a stutter that turned into a shout that turned into screaming. “Steve. Billy, wake up! Wake up!”

She knew that wasn’t going to cut it, not after what she’d seen. Not after watching Billy flailing and gasping for air, the way he slowly stopped fighting, like the life was draining right out of him. And Neil, he’d looked...satisfied. Even when he finally got pulled off of Billy. Even when Max watched him get pummeled onto his stomach by some officers. Satisfied. 

Her eyes were stuck on Billy and he was—she hadn’t done anything and now—

She gripped one of Billy’s arms, trying to ignore the blood all over his face, the way his neck looked swollen. Then she started to shake it and she started to scream because he wasn’t there at all, he wasn’t there to kick the back of her shoes or take all of the consequences of her actions or give her shit about her stupid crush on Tony Hawk or breathe. 

Steve held up a hand to ease her away from shaking at Billy, shushing her – “Max, stop it – don’t touch him – “ He bit out shortly, trying to listen, to feel breath against his ear – but no, nothing. Nothing. 

He snapped into that clear cut part of his brain that always seemed to know what to do, the part that he could sink into and let it take control – he shooed Max farther away, and he knew she was screaming, and it made his head give a fierce pound, but he couldn’t help her right now, or calm her down, even as she shrieked in his ear – he needed to focus on Billy, immediately. 

When he touched at Billy’s throat, he could still feel a weak heartbeat in his pulse point – so no compressions. But it would stop if it didn’t get any air.

Steve shifted on his knees next to where he was laid out, flattening his shoulders out against the tile and gently tilted his head back to open the airway. Then he pinched fingers over his nose, fingertips slipping in the blood, and sealed his mouth over Billy’s. He breathed air into his lungs in one deep breath, then pulled away to get another breath of air, counting as he waited, audibly, under his breath. Whispering, “1 – 2 – 3 – “ then leaned in to gently blow back into his airway again. 

His mind a frozen wasteland of white static and noise and he couldn’t even hear Max shrieking anymore, or Neil Hargrove in the background, or any of the bystanders – the mall music that carried on cheerily above them – none of it. All he could hear was the sound of his own breath huffing into Billy’s mouth, urging his lungs to start working again. One hand holding his nose, the other knocked under his chin to keep his head tilted. 

1 – 2 – 3 - Breathe. 

1 – 2 – 3 – Breathe

1 –2 –3 - Please.

***

Billy’s eyes snapped open with a sharp, terrified gasp, hands shooting out to hit whoever was touching him. He was hit with a barrage of sounds and movement; people standing near him, Max sobbing somewhere not far off, Steve hovering over him. He tried to take in another breath and could barely manage it, couldn’t get his mouth to form any words either. Just panicked sounds and little gasps for air that weren’t fucking cutting it, his whole body feeling like one deep and agonizing wound. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, ambulance is here,” Max said, her voice still frantic and tears more than audible. “I hear them, Billy. They’re here, they’re almost here. I’m so sorry, Billy I’m so sorry.”

Billy didn’t respond, just kept shoving and hitting at whoever was closest to him, noticing it was Steve every few seconds and then inexplicably forgetting. His vision was swimming in front of him and nothing felt right, horrible images of his father’s face looking down at him, spitting on him, gripping his throat and crushing it like a soda can. 

***

Steve let Billy hit him. He knew he was scared – he’d just fucking died, basically, so, so yeah, he was gonna be scared. But Steve couldn’t seem to pull himself away either. The second Billy’d started breathing, gasping in air on his own, Steve had let out a little sob. He tangled his hands up into Billy’s hair, briefly bumping their foreheads together, hot tears dripping onto Billy’s face as he let out a little broken sound.

“Oh , oh you’re alright, you’re alright, you’re okay – it’s okay – “

But he pulled back after a second because he didn’t want to freak Billy out anymore – trying to give him space – his fingers shaking like leaves as they soothed over Billy’s shirt like it had wrinkles in it. 

The paramedics were there, then, inexplicably fast – like they were missing gaps of time or something – and they were easing Steve back. “We’ve got it from here – he’s gonna be fine – “

“No, no I need to stay with him – you don’t understand, he – “ Steve was saying, but they were moving him back. 

“C’mon kid, you family? A brother? What?” The paramedic was asking him. They were already loading Billy onto a stretcher on the ground, which they’d hoist up. Talking to him, murmuring things Steve couldn’t hear as they got him backed up.

“I – no, but – he needs me, he’s scared – “ 

Another paramedic – a lady with a high blonde ponytail was talking to Max. “Hey honey, you family? You okay?” 

Neil was nowhere in sight, dragged off by the police presumably. One of the cops was sticking around to take statements.

The paramedic over Billy was shining a light into each eye. “Hey buddy, you hangin in there? You’re gonna be just fine, alright? Can you hear me alright? See me? Nod for yes.” They were fitting an oxygen mask over Billy’s face to help him breathe. 

***

“I’m, yeah I’m his sister,” Max said, looking over at Steve helplessly. “My step dad broke his nose, Steve’s nose is broken so we all have to go. Please don’t—he shouldn’t be alone.”

Billy nodded or thought he did, though it felt more like making his head go around and around in a circle. It was like the time he’d done coke back in California, him and some older guy fucking in the middle of the night on a playground. He could remember getting spun on the merry go round and this felt like that, sort of like that. 

He noticed Max and Steve out of the corner of his eye and immediately thought they were leaving, saw Max grab Steve’s hand and started to flail. The people loading him into the ambulance were talking to him in soothing tones but he couldn’t remember the movie, maybe they were talking about it to each other but he just couldn’t get there. He tried to yell for them but nothing came out, just these high, pitchy sounds from the back of his throat, still being squeezed shut. 

***

“Yeah, don’t worry – we can set his nose, he’ll be fine, the best we can do is bandage it until it heals. But if you’re not family – “ 

“Hey, hey no – I need to go. You can’t leave me here.”

“You can come along behind us if you want – after we set your nose – “ 

Steve was trying to focus on them, wasn’t sure what the hell they were talking about – his nose was FINE it didn’t even hurt, he was fine, they needed to focus on Billy. Steve didn’t hurt at all, he felt numb. Kind of cold, like the mall AC was turned up too high. He’d forgotten his jacket in the car. He got cold.

“No. Max is too young – I’m 18, I need to stay with her. She can’t go alone.” 

They were sitting him down, as he glanced helplessly over the guy’s shoulder at Billy by the ambulance, with the blue gloves getting up in his face. Why was he getting so handsy. “This’ll only take a second – “ the guys said, then twitched the bridge of his nose. More blood gushed out than before - he’d forgotten it was bleeding, but now it slicked over his mouth, gumming it up. Painting the front of his shirt macabre red.

“MotherFUCKER!” Steve yelled at that son of a bitch, spitting out blood on the ground. “You guys are taking me, he needs me!”

***

Max climbed into the ambulance despite the grumbling of adults and Steve behind her, reaching back to help him inside. Maybe she didn’t need to—they’d set his nose—but he deserved it. He’d gotten Billy breathing and if he hadn’t then…

“We’re coming, okay? We’re gonna come with you,” she said, looking down at Billy. It was like he wasn’t even seeing her though, like he wasn’t seeing anything. She’d never seen his eyes like that, huge and blown out like he was on drugs or something. That was fear, something way beyond it even. 

Terror. Like staring down a whole stampede of demodogs. Like hearing them, feeling them slamming into the school bus. 

She didn’t touch him, remembering Steve snapping at her to stop, but it was a near thing. The noises he was making were ringing in her ears, watching people neither of them knew putting their hands all over him. He didn’t like that, he never did. 

***

Steve sat down alongside Max – they both had to keep their distance as the people worked around Billy, and he was just thankful to be along for the ride. He looped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, biting at his lower lip, worrying at it over Billy – the blonde woman was at his side stuffing gauze up his nose and bandaging it, but he wasn’t really paying attention – couldn’t take his eyes off Billy. The ambulance rocking around them.

“Billy – Billy we’re here, it’ll be okay.” Steve was saying, sounding like he had a bad head cold. He whispered to Max. “You can touch him now – why don’t you hold his hand, huh? He’ll like that.” 

Really, STEVE wanted to hold his hand, but, Billy’d known Max longer, and Steve’d really snapped at her about not touching him (kind of hypocrytical of him to do it, now) – but that’d been when she was trying to pull his arm off when he wasn’t breathing. Now was different. Now he needed someone to hold his hand. 

***

Max looked over at Steve and nodded furiously, looking back down at her brother. She wanted to warn him but he wasn’t even responding to the paramedics now, just staring at her with those giant, bloodshot eyes. She sniffed harshly, suddenly aware she was still crying, sobbing really and that must’ve been why it sounded so loud in there. 

“I l—Billy, we’re right here,” she said, leaning over him to try and get something beyond this animal like eye contact, her hand slipping out to grab onto his, wincing at the grip she received back. “It’s me, it’s your sister Max. Steve and I are here, we’re gonna be right here and they’ll call mom, they’ll call her and she’ll come.”

She couldn’t tell if anything she was doing was comforting. Billy just kept howling, the sound muffled by the oxygen mask, tears diluting some of the blood caked all over his face. He was gripping her hand so hard that she could feel her joints creaking, his knuckles bright white but she didn’t stop it, could never. 

***

Steve leaned in close by Max, one arm still around her shoulders, rubbing over her upper arm, while his other hand lay over the back of Billy’s - sandwiching it between his and Max’s much smaller one. He brushed a thumb on repeat over Billy’s wrist in soothing strokes. Smiling at him gently. 

His own eyes were also still as damp as Max’s, lashes wet with tears, but he’d sucked up his crying because he’d needed to focus. The blonde lady kept messing with him, swiping at the side of his face where Neil’s ring had caught him and the corner of his eye was all fucked up – cleaning it up with rubbing alcohol. Steve didn’t feel it. 

At the same time there was a flurry of activity around Billy, where they’d gotten him into a neck brace, were cleaning up the gash on his forehead, and bandaging it, cleaning around his eyes to clear away any residue of blood. The mask was still over his face, pumping him pure, clean oxygen. One of the techs was inserting an IV expertly as the Ambulance jostled like they were on smooth seas, instead. 

“Alright, you two –we’re giving him a mild sedative, alright? Just to help calm down his heart rate. He’s gonna get a little sleepy.” 

Steve blinked, trying to figure out if he was supposed to give some kind of affirmative. “Yeah – yeah, okay.” He nodded, swallowing, before he got his eyes focused back on Billy’s. 

When they finally got to the hospital, mostly everything was already said and done – and it was a matter of rest and time and drugs and more oxygen. They kicked up another fuss about Steve not being family, but he managed to get by – staying in the hospital room with Billy. They made him call his folks, and Max’s mom – which took up a little of his time, when he’d rather be at Billy’s side, but Max was there and within viewing distance of Steve.  
He wondered about what the long distance bill to New York would be – he had to leave a message on the answering machine, which was about typical. He wondered how pissed his dad would be at him.


	6. Chapter 6

Billy woke up with a vague idea of where he was but no real concept of time. It smelled sharp and medicinal and the lights were way too fucking bright, like someone had cranked them beyond capacity, shining the actual fucking sun right into his eyes. When he squinted his whole face lit up in pain like a firecracker going off across his skin. He gasped but it sounded...wrong. Thin. 

He looked to his right with another pained wince and saw Steve, folded up in a position that couldn’t have been comfortable right next to him in a chair not meant for sleeping. There was a thick bandage across the bridge of his nose and the corner of his eye looked cut up, that little pug wrinkle making some kind of permanent home between his brows, one eye blackened. He reached out for him but stopped short at the sight of an IV, frowning down at it. 

Images came quick then, short bursts of memory. His father ripping his hair out, ripping him out of Steve’s arms. The crack of bone under Neil’s boots, his head hitting the tile. Blood pouring down his face and blinding him. Neil’s—hand, his hand. Choking him, putting him out of his misery because he was born wrong. The look on Neil’s face when black spots started to dance in his vision, happier than he’d ever seen him, spitting on his face. 

***

Steve stirred a little as a heart-rate monitor that had been haunting his dreams suddenly went wild. He blinked sleepily, lifting his head from where he’d had it tucked against his arms, legs folded up against his chest. He came to fast, shaking the sleep away as he scooted forward in his seat, Nikes dropping to the floor. 

He was wearing a plain white t-shirt because they’d probably like burned his shirt or something – all caked and wet with blood – and this was what they had. He had a clean white bandage pressed over his nose, holding it together, and a little white strip over the cut at his temple. He leaned in toward Billy, reaching out to gently lay a large hand over Billy’s knuckles, where they twitched beneath his palm.

“Heeeey hey, you’re up.” Steve smiled at him gently, using his soft voice, but he couldn’t move his face too much or his nose hurt like a real bitch, so the facial movement wasn’t much. “Are you feeling okay? I’m just gonna call the nurse, okay?” 

He reached over to grab the little button on the bed, pressing it – they’d told him to call when Billy woke up so they could run over things with him like pain scales or whatever to better monitor the drugs running through the IV. While they were still alone, he lifted that rough, blunt hand to press a kiss into the back of his knuckles, closing his eyes for a second before he let his hand rest in the stiff, starched blankets again. 

“Been worried about you.” He said a little breathlessly. 

He felt the knot between his brows crumple a little, making a ring of pain rap out from the bridge of his nose, aching behind his eye sockets. He didn’t remember the last time he’d cried, really. He hadn’t even cried over Nancy – but ever since he’d cried all over Billy’s face with snotty blood mixed with tears and stuff, well – seemed like he felt like a total waterworks. He’d cried all the way to the hospital without really feeling it. Just silent sort of tears.

And even now, Steve’s face crumpled, a wave of pain crackling over it, and tears sparked at the corners of his eyes. His nose turned pink and the back of his throat stung, burned, and then he had tears on his cheeks because Billy was awake and he was okay and he’d been DEAD basically, and – he was okay. Steve’s brow folded as he tried brushing away the tears on his cheeks, snuffling with that stupid bandage over his nose. Ducking his head and clinging onto Billy’s hand like he was going somewhere. 

“Shit I’m glad you’re okay. Love you. Love you so much, I’m - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

***

Billy’s eyes widened at the sight of Steve’s tears, his grip tightening in Steve’s hand. He reached out with his free arm but the twisting motion made another hoarse, nearly silent sound scratch its way up his throat, the pain enough to make him lay on his back again. Instead he lifted their joined hands and tried to touch Steve’s chin, his cheek, careful not to go near the bandage. His arm weighed a ton but he kept it up, tried to get at Steve’s tears the best he could. 

“L’ve you,” he rasped back, touching his neck with his eyebrows knitted together. “W’ happ—voice?”

The door opened and Billy thought maybe the old man in the doorframe was talking to him but his concentration was a fucking chore to get a grip on. He saw what might’ve been Susan in the hallway, her arms crossed tightly with Max a carbon copy of her at her side before the door closed again. Someone asked for him to point to the number on a chart about his pain and he tried his best, too loose on whatever they had him on to bluff, fingers clumsily brushing the 8. 

***

Steve hadn’t been planning on crying – it fucking snuck up on him, and then people were there and he tried not to be embarrassed, but he was, he never cried – he wanted them to go away so that he could curl up next to Billy on the bed and just sob into his shoulder because he was alive, but he couldn’t. So he tried to quiet these sounds that were straining to break out of his chest as he blinked rapidly and shied away from the bed to give Billy space. But he didn’t let go of his hand - hung on like a lifeline between them. Thinking about how Billy’d even tried to brush away his tears, even in the state he was in, and that just made Steve want to cry more, total waterworks. 

He swallowed and stayed quiet as he pulled back watching them check his pain level, also jotting down his stats on the little machine on this paper chart on a clipboard, and the nurse adjusted something with the IV baggie – maybe the drugs or whatever, maybe just saline, Steve had no idea. 

A chipper nurse smiled down at Billy with curly silver hair, and patted him on the shoulder. They’d told something about how the IV was keeping Billy hydrated, because he couldn’t drink water the first couple days – the swallowing motion could impede his healing. Steve hoped that meant he wasn’t thirsty, or hungry, or….Steve sniffled and rubbed an arm over his eyes and tried staring at Billy, willing the people away. 

***

Billy shrunk under the woman’s hand, his own shaking violently in Steve’s. He stared back at Steve before the sounds around him became too much and he had to squeeze his eyes shut, his free hand moving back to try and rub at the sore spot behind his ears. His arm was halted by the woman but done much more carefully, like whatever was on his face combined with the sound of the heart monitor finally had her fucking catching on. 

She said something about some nasty bruises behind his ears, common with a skull fracture. Skull fracture. 

“We’ve left all your medical information with your mother, you just worry about resting,” she said, finally stepping out of his space after another look at the IV bag, the door opening and closing silently. 

“M’mmy?” Billy asked, the action making his throat and face ache, but he needed to know. He looked at Steve like he’d have some answer but Steve was moving a little slow in front of him and still looked so sad. 

***

Steve winced at the words ‘skull fracture,’ although he already knew. He knew his whole list of injuries – a few cracked ribs, too, some slight internal bleeding, bruising, a fucking skull fracture, with accompanying concussion – broken nose, just like Steve, two peas in a pod – and the gash on his forehead from that nasty ring Neil wore. And of course, the fucking destroyed trachea – bruised trachea – like what the fuck. What the hell was the matter with that man? Steve hoped he rotted in jail until he died, hopefully sooner rather than later.

Steve stared back at Billy with this mournful puppy look, still crying and getting his bandage all wet – he could feel it starting to unpeel at the corners as he got the adhesive all damp. 

His face broke at the next question from Billy, as choppy and slurred as it was – so hoarse and raspy you almost couldn’t understand, but Steve, Steve could. His heart broke at the same time his face did and he made a choking sound and looked down, shaking his head. 

“Oh, s-sweet, heart..” He knew Billy was drugged to the gills, but the way he asked that – the way he looked at Steve when he asked him – Steve couldn’t bear it. The way he almost looked...hopeful. He held Billy’s hand that much tighter, looking him in the eyes.“N-….no, I’m s-sorry, no. She meant, Susan. Your step-mom, Susan.” 

***

Billy looked down below Steve’s face and nodded, awareness sort of flooding him all at once. No, not his mother, she was gone. He was almost gone too, maybe. He thought about the 8 on the pain scale, the exaggerated sad face below the number and the words Very Severe. Suddenly he remembered the sound of Max screaming at him, Steve’s voice loud above him, lips on his. 

“S’ved me?” he rasped, eyes widening, grip tightening just barely in Steve’s hand. 

He raised their hands together again and tried to get at Steve’s face, really wipe at the tears there. He’d never seen Steve cry and he wanted to fix it, didn’t want him to be sad but his limbs weren’t working correctly. They were weighed down with sandbags, clumsy and too big for his body, his face fixed in irritation. 

***

Steve clasped Billy’s hand from behind, fingers slotted between the dips of Billy’s own, and pulled the searching hand to his face, pressing a tear stained face into that rough, dry palm. Squeezing his eyes shut, screwed tight.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbled against Billy’s lifeline, the ridge of his brow so knotted it kind of hurt. Sorry he was crying. Sorry for what had happened. Sorry he couldn’t have stopped it. Sorry Billy was born with such a bastard piece of shit for a father. Sorry.

He pressed a kiss into Billy’s palm before resting his salt slick cheek there once more, almost burying his face against those familiar fingers. Doe dark, tear damp eyes - red rimmed with grief - flickered open again to stare at his boyfriend’  
s confused, hazy blue ones. He didn’t really know how much Billy remembered, what would come back to him, what wouldn’t – especially when he’d been being choked to death. Literally.

“Guess….you could say that – gave you CPR. You…you stopped breathing, baby. But it’s okay now, you’re okay – everything’s fine now. You’re safe, and you’ll feel better before you know it. Okay?” Each syllable was uttered with caution, cracking on the word ‘breathing,’ as he rubbed his spare hand along the soft inner curve of Billy’s forearm. Giving special care to avoid the indent and tape of the IV. He didn’t want to lie to him about what happened – didn’t want him to panic – but he tried to focus on the positives. Where they were now, what was next. Not what had happened, that which couldn’t be changed. 

***

Billy nodded, still staring at Steve’s sad face, his brain catching on stopped breathing and fine now. Those two things didn’t make sense together and he frowned even if the action hurt his face, his throat working as he tried to talk. He was about to say it, about to ask why did you do that or why can I barely feel your hand on my arm when the door swung silently open again. 

Susan was coming through—not mom, she was dead, it was Susan. Max was on her heels, peering around her back like she was hesitating or something. He didn’t really know why, lifted his free hand to his face and patted around. Bandages, a few of them, one on his nose and one on his forehead. Suddenly he didn’t want to know the rest. 

“Hi, honey, hi Billy,” Susan said carefully, stepping slowly forward before waving Max in behind her. “How are you doing?”

“‘M ‘n 8,” Billy slurred, even the smallest swallow getting caught halfway down his throat, the hand not in Steve’s lazily pawing at his mouth. 

***

Max peered around her mom’s back, feeling more like she was six than fourteen, a little furrow between her brows as she shifted on her Vans. Biting at her lip, and making little fists at her sides until her nails dug little crescents into her palms. She wasn’t sure what to say. She gave a little half wave, freckled face still lost in a frown as those bright blue eyes stayed glued onto his throat. Her fierce red locks had been pulled up into a tight, unforgiving ponytail. She kept undoing it and putting it back up in the waiting room, snapping the hair tie on her wrist when it was left down. 

Steve glanced up where Susan was giving him this unsure, questioning look, looking completely flustered. He cleared his throat with a little smile – as close to a little smile as he could get, roughly wiping at his face with the sleeve on his shoulder to clear away the tears. His eyes were probably puffy as shit. He kept his hand tangled up in Billy’s though – didn’t let that go. 

“Um, the nurse had this pain chart – asked him what number he was. He was an 8, but, I dunno I think they upped his pain meds so it should be getting better now. Might fall asleep again, I’m not… - sure.” His gaze flicked to Billy, as if to double check that he hadn’t passed out in the moment that he’d looked away. 

***

Susan’s face lit up in understanding and she nodded, moving close enough to lay a hand on Steve’s shoulder—not squeezing, just staying there, just in case he needed it. Her eyes returned to Billy, locked carefully on his face and nowhere else, her smile small and warm. 

“You’ll only be here another two or three days, Billy, and things will get less confusing,” she said softly, reaching out to wipe his mouth for him with her own hand. “We’re getting everything set up at home so you’ll be comfortable while you get better. Gonna learn how blended grilled cheese tastes. Probably better than it sounds, huh?”

In the back of his mind Billy thought maybe she was telling a joke but it was really hard to tell. She had the look on her face she always had when she wanted to make things better, but—they couldn’t be better. He couldn’t remember exactly why but he just knew it, his face screwing up in pain. 

“S’rry,” he rasped, taking in tiny gasps of air, feeling Susan’s hand drift away from his mouth, patting him but he could barely feel it. Like how you prodded at your face after a filling, knowing it was there but difficult to feel. 

***

Max stepped up to the side of the hospital bed, hanging onto one of the metal guardrails with a white knuckled hand, chewing at her other thumb – gaze drifting over Billy’s face, a look of consternation on her face.

“Are you – feeling – okay?” She asked. “I – I wanted to say I’m. Sorry. That you, that I, I didn’t do. More. I should’ve, done more. I – I’m just really glad you’re okay. I thought – I thought you – “ She bit at her lip so hard she could taste blood. “ Thought you were…” She blinked furiously at him. “I’m just really glad you’re okay, jerkface.” She swallowed hard, blinking fast again, like she was trying not to cry again. Her eyes already looked a little puffy – just like Steve’s. “I - “ She cleared her throat. “Always thought you said you were an 11, huh?”

Steve threw her this real gentle smile over the hospital bed, an encouraging one. Tightening his hand within Billy’s, soothing his thumb over the edge of his knuckles. But as he looked back at Billy, his entire, damaged face was warping, wracked in pain. Barely sipping at the air. 

“Hey – hey, you okay? You need us to call the nurse again? Billy?” 

***

Billy shook his head, not sure which question he was answering. He could hear the heart monitor picking up and it sounded like the wheel on Price is Right but it wasn’t exciting, it didn’t make him sit up in his seat on the couch like he used to with Max, swearing at the television. He wouldn’t do it again, he wasn’t supposed to. 

He tried to say sorry again but it got caught in his throat, Susan reading his lips and shaking her head furiously, rubbing at his arm. She didn’t understand, she didn’t hear him say it, she didn’t understand—

“B’rn wrong,” he managed, starting to cry though not as hard as he wanted to. He couldn’t because it kept getting caught in his chest, in his throat. His neck. “S’posed t’ die.”

***

Steve’s eyes widened in alarm – Jesus, he’d been hoping – he didn’t know. That Billy’d somehow black that part out or something. No such luck, apparently. He leaned forward out of his seat into a standing position at Billy’s bedside, leaning in towards him, keeping that hand clasped tightly between his own, like he could offer him some kind of warmth. 

“That’s – that’s garbage, it’s not true. The only one wrong was him – hear me? For, for someone to do something like – like that, there’s something wrong with him. Not you. You’re perfect. Just as you are. Fuck him. You aren’t supposed to die –you’re here, with us. With me. Like you’re supposed to be.” 

“Yeah he’s locked away! He’s in jail, and he’s gonna rot there!” Max exclaimed, still hanging onto the metal bar, her other hand outstretched to lay over Billy’s shoulder. “We’re family, and you’re stuck here with us.”

***

Billy shook his head and winced, flinching in the hands of—Susan, Max, Steve. All of them looking right at him like he was wrong. Family. 

Susan was crying but in the quiet way that it felt like a mom would do, like she was trying not to be obtrusive. She nodded along when Steve spoke, when Max did, but wasn’t saying anything except honey, oh honey over and over. It made something deep down in him feel almost calm. 

Max looked pissed off but she was touching him so gently, so careful. She sounded pissed too but it wasn’t at him this time, he didn’t think. The more seconds that passed the harder that was to distinguish, but at least she was close, at least she said family. 

And Steve, his Steve. He loved Steve so much, Steve saved his life even if maybe he wasn’t supposed to. Steve thought he was perfect, actually perfect. Steve said he was supposed to be with him and Steve loved him too. 

“‘Kay,” he said finally, huffing out a shaky breath that took a couple of tries. There must’ve been tears on his face because Susan was fussing over it, her touch light like always while he looked at everyone, eyes falling on Steve last and staying there. “Mmk.”

***

Steve raised Billy’s hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to the back of his knuckles as he smiled down at him – still feeling teary, especially with Billy saying he was supposed to have died. Billy was looking drowsy – the nurse had said the upped pain meds might conk him out, and it looked like it was sneaking up on him now.

“Why don’t you go to sleep, huh? Go to sleep. Everything’ll feel a lot better in the morning. Things’ll be better. Just rest. I’ll be here all the time, okay? Not going anywhere.” He soothed some of the curls out of Billy’s face with his free hand, thumb brushing over one of those perfectly groomed eyebrows. 

***

Things did get better, in a way. Once Billy had been taken home it wasn’t better, not at first. The first two days had been the worst, hardly able to sleep with less pain medication to knock him out, memories coming out more freely. Eating nothing but colorless, blended sludge hadn’t helped things. He’d been in his head a lot, way too fucking much, and even a week later he’d catch himself spacing out and replaying Neil’s words. He didn’t want to ever say them again, but that didn’t take them out of his mind. 

Steve had tried, done a fucking perfect job at trying even if there were times it didn’t help. He was doting without fussing, laid with him when he didn’t feel up to getting out of bed, was sweet and soft and kind and Billy loved him. Loved him even when he found it too hard to show it, tried in little ways and hoped it came through. 

Today, though, did feel better. In a real way, a substantial way. Tomorrow was school, something Billy was dreading, but that wasn’t today. Today they were going to celebrate his first solid fucking meal in two weeks and Max had stolen the concealer he’d asked for and Steve was sitting right next to him at the table, all of them anxiously awaiting the sound of the doorbell. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of people this stressed out about pizza before,” he said softly, looking over at Steve, still handsome even with his raccoon eyes, nose still a perfect, long line. 

***

Steve grinned over at Billy, little crinkles forming around his dark, purple bruised eyes – one knee bouncing beneath the table. He was really very excited for Billy, excited to see him make the progress over the two weeks, one small step back to something like normal, even if they were still a long ways off. Steve wasn’t even sure what normal really was for Billy – he’d really only ever seen him under the threat of his dad, even when his dad wasn’t there anymore. 

He was a….little bit, nervous, for Billy to go back tomorrow. Mostly just because it felt like he was in such a fragile state after what had happened at the mall, and Steve always felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, as he did his best to help take care of his boyfriend in the only ways that he knew how. Trying to just, love him, take care of him, be there for him when nothing else seemed to be right with the world.

But he also knew, knew how important Billy’s social status was to him. And he wasn’t thrilled to be back at Hawkins High with this new…form, of Billy – this breakable Billy – when he knew that there were a lot of assholes there that were looking to do just that. Why couldn’t they just get a freakin’ break? Steve’d already become a bit of a social leper a while back, and honestly, he didn’t miss the titles and the pomp and all that. But he thought Billy might – thought Billy might need that. So what was going to happen going back tomorrow? With…well…everyone knowing? With some of the shit that was going on, just to Steve?

“We take pizza very seriously in this house.” Steve teased with a cute, stern set to his mouth, as he tried to dislodge the thoughts from his mind.

“I wonder if it’s gonna be that one nerd from your school again,” Max mused, sucking at her Strawberry Nesquik. “You ‘member?” She smirked at Billy. “The one that like, almost cried when he showed up at the door and saw you? Good times.” 

***

“All I said was gimme that, he ran back to the car before I could pay,” Billy said defensively, smiling with his tongue between his teeth before looking at Steve, innocence all across his face. “Swear. I can’t control my face.”

He reached over to grasp Steve’s hand, trying to savor that ability while it lasted. Once they went to school he wouldn’t be able to do this any time he wanted, but this was nice. Having a safe place to do this would—it would be fine. He couldn’t think about school yet but thankfully the doorbell rang before his thoughts could roam, Susan sprinting out of her seat to grab the door. 

“Love you,” he said quickly as Susan barreled in, setting boxes of pizza down in front of them. He didn’t even wait for the plates Susan was passing out, just flipped a box open and took a giant, way too hot bite of pepperoni. It singed his tongue a little but he still sighed heavily, almost—almost inappropriately. 

***

“I seriously don’t believe you,” Steve laughed at him, delighted. It felt really good, around the table like this – Billy acting almost like his normal self, Max bitching like usual, and the dizzying aroma of pizza swooping in. Billy telling him he ‘loved him’ in a voice that was understandable to more than just Steve, because his throat was finally healing, and Steve could almost convince himself that it was gonna be fine.

“Love you, too,” the words accompanied a little quirk of Steve’s lips, and this big sweet bambi look in Billy’s direction – color flaring over his cheeks, not like he hadn’t heard it hundreds of times, but now Billy’s voice was finally coming back. And he could really SAY it. He squeezed the hand that had snatched his up, fingers meshing together beneath the table as Susan slid the pizzas onto the table.

“Thanks Mrs. Hargrove,” Steve chirped at her, leaning forward to examine the boxes. He picked through his far more carefully than Billy until he found the one he was looking for with green peppers, and settled back to take a bite. “It smells awesome.”

He almost laughed at Billy – he made sounds more like that when he was fucking than eating pizza, so, it had to be pretty good. When Max ran to the fridge to pull out some huge bottles of soda, and Susan was bustling over to grab plates - Steve leaned over and huffed a laugh into Billy’s ear, whispering for his ears only, “Sounds better than sex?” and kissed him on the cheek, before stealing a bite of Billy’s pepperoni slice. Nodding appreciatively and looking cheeky.

***

Billy hunched his shoulders and looped his free arm through Steve’s, gently setting his head on his shoulder while he chewed. He still had to be pretty careful about that, doctor’s orders and shit. A skull fracture like his meant it would heal by itself but it also meant no jostling movements, lots of slow stuff, take it easy. He’d never had to actually follow those orders before, he’d really have to quit basketball this time—

“Love you,” he rasped impulsively through a mouth full of food, adjusting so his neck didn’t touch Steve’s shoulder at all. “And yes, it is. Graduating from blended sludge—no offense, Susan—to pizza? Yes. It is.”

“None taken, honey,” Susan said, setting glasses in front of them and piling Billy’s plate with three more pieces. “Let’s stop after those and see how you feel, make sure your stomach’s still happy.”

***

Steve relaxed with the weight of Billy’s head against his shoulder, eating his own slice with gusto because, well, he fucking loved pizza and and he was pretty starved, so. He gently touched his chin to the crown of Billy’s head, not jostling him at all – just a passing brush of movement, stirring against curls. “Love you,” Steve grinned, enjoying the repeat of his favorite words. 

He swallowed, and raised his tall glass of coca-cola, which Max had poured – “To Billy, graduating to some amazing pizza, and going back to school tomorrow.” 

Max hooted and banged the end of her fork on the table, then leaned over to clink glasses with Steve like they did in movies and stuff, before extending for Billy. “Yeah! Cheers!” She exclaimed, feeling very suave. 

***

Billy set himself upright and clinked his glass with Max and then Steve, urging Susan to join in. Some little slice of normal—not like Steve had talked about before, hiding something or pretending something was one way when it was really another. This was different. 

It was things the way that they should be; Billy sandwiched between Max and Steve on the couch, Susan sitting nearby. Eating food like a normal person and only partly paying attention to Cheers on the screen. It was Steve hand in his and Max’s leg knocking against his like old times, getting drowsy a little early and letting Steve take him to bed. Not pretending, just...imagining. Trying it on. 

“Scared,” he said in a whisper in the dark, looking for Steve’s eyes and finding them, pulled back before pressing his face into the side of Steve’s arm. They’d said he’d have a scar on his forehead. “About school.”

***

Steve’d been lying in the darkness, one arm wrapped around Billy’s shoulders, the other one looped loosely over his side – thoughtlessly running his hand over Billy’s spine in long, sweeping gestures to help him get to sleep. Watching the shadows pass on the ceiling as the trees stirred outside the window in a breeze. Like there was a storm moving in. Steve wished tomorrow wouldn’t come. He hadn’t been sleeping well – neither of them had been. For Billy, it was nightmares, nightmares he woke up screaming from. It had somehow been worse when he’d woken up screaming, but all it was was a hoarse, gasping whisper – that had been worse, somehow, than the real full-bodied screams. 

Steve’d started staying up after that, as if in wait for Billy to wake up – it was easy, really, to start to lose sleep again. From both his and Billy’s nightmares combined. Steve’d had nightmares well before this. They just weren’t eased by sleeping with Billy anymore – they were worse, really. Because now it wasn’t just droop dripping from jagged toothed maws, or Dustin cowering beneath him as he made a human shield, or getting lost in some dark abyss he couldn’t get out of. Now, it was Billy dying, choking, losing breath and not coming back.

Once Steve’d had go start spending the night at home, with his parents back and royally pissed about the entire situation with Neil – legally wrapping him up to the point that he’d never escape from the legal system, and jail, ever, for assaulting a Harrington – well, he’d had to start sneaking back to Billy’s at night. A long, cold, weary walk, and that left him even more tired. But he tried not to show it around Billy, because it was so. Much. Worse. For his boyfriend. 

He didn’t need Steve’s added shit on top of his own, he just needed support while he healed, physically and mentally, and that’s what steve could offer. A steady hand and a smile and a warm body in the dark when nightmares came snooping – because if there was one thing he understood, it was nightmares. And he tried his best to keep them at bay for Billy.

But tonight, they weren’t even asleep yet. Steve blinked into the shadows at Billy’s glinting blue eyes, before he buried his face into the curve of Steve’s bicep. He tightened his other arm around Billy, rubbing his back again.

“Don’t be scared.” He whispered back. “It’ll be alright, okay? We’re past the scary part. You’re doing so much better and – that has nothing to do with any of those assholes at school, alright? Just…try not to let them get to you. Tomorrow. Just focus on classes, and I’ll be with you in the halls, and everything’ll be okay. You can even eat with us at lunch, you know, if you want.” 

He really didn’t want to spook Billy about school. About what had been going on since the entire incident. Small towns and all…everybody knew. And although it was heresay from two towns over, the rumor about the gay thing – well, it was running rampant. Worst of all from Tommy – because he was the only one that Steve knew, who could put one and one together and know that it wasn’t a rumor. 

***

Billy nodded against Steve’s arm, covered in some soft loungewear shirt. He was in something comfortable too, hadn’t even worn anything but sleep clothes since—the mall. It was going to be fucking weird slipping back into tight jeans, looking for all the world like shit was normal again. The concealer would help but there wasn’t much point in trying to put anything on his healed nose, the twin bruises he shared with Steve. 

“Okay,” he whispered back, arms winding around the one he was pressed against, holding onto it like a cherished stuffed animal or something. He made his eyes close, tried to push the thoughts out too, thought of walking down the halls with Steve. Fuck everybody. “‘Night, sweetheart. Love you.”

Steve pressed a fierce, yet ultimately, almost sickeningly soft kiss against Billy’s forehead – on the opposite side as where he’d gotten it sliced open with a well appointed military ring. Wrapping his arms tight around Billy’s shoulders, and tucking his chin over the crown of his head, burying it in those silky Shirley Temple curls. He held him close, just as Billy held onto him in return. Steve remained a warm, steady weight for him to use as a lifeline.

“You just come find me if anything goes wrong, okay? You know I won’t be far. The school’s not that big.” Steve said, putting a smile into his voice. “Goodnight, baby. Love you, so much.”

Steve took a deep breath, lungs expanding beneath Billy’s cheek like a sigh, eyes flickering closed. He wasn’t going to sleep, though. Time passed. He lay like that, in the still, in the dark, counting Billy’s steady breaths puffing against the hollow of his throat, keeping an eye on the shadows stirring against the wall. Branches looking more like creeping vines. He swallowed and closed his eyes, flinching his lashes shut, as he waited. 

***

Billy woke up half an hour before his alarm was set to go off, eyes snapping open like they usually did these days. There hadn’t been any nightmares but his sleep had felt thin, like he’d gotten enough but just barely, too hyper vigilant to sleep hard. Even though Neil was gone, even if he’d never see him again, that part stayed with him. 

He had two arms still wound around his back, his cheek still pillowed carefully on Steve’s chest, one big hand cradling the back of his head like it was as fragile as an egg. Steve was awake, he could tell, none of those deep and drowsy breaths rising and falling. 

“Hi,” he rasped, fingers flexing against Steve’s ribs before giving them a gentle pat. “Gotta get ready a little early, gonna take a bit.”

***

Steve stirred against Billy as he felt Billy awaken, his breath picking up and his limbs twitching into movement. 

“Mornin’,” he murmured against Billy’s hair, drawing away a bit from his boy as he patted his ribs like a hint that he was about to get up. 

“Mkay, take your time” Steve nodded tiredly. He hadn’t slept, too on edge if Billy got a nightmare, or if he would get one, and he was tired of nightmares. Wound tight from them, the circles under his eyes invisible for bruises. Once Billy had gotten up, he slumped back into the blankets and burrowed under them. It was easier to slip into a fitful sort of nap – even if it was only for a small gap of time – when Billy wasn’t in the bed.  
Kind of the opposite of how it used to be, but it was nobody’s fault. Just how it was.

Steve shoved his face into the pillow, hugging it, and slipped into a sort of darkness while waiting for Billy to get dressed and ready, shower, whatever. Steve fully planned on tripping out of bed into some jeans and a shirt at the last minute, sucking some coffee down, and driving to school as a certified zombie. He just needed a few minutes. That’s all. 

***

Billy looked over his shoulder after he slipped his sleep clothes off, the sight of Steve making him pause, making some guilt twist his stomach into a knot. He tried to be quiet after that, easing the rest of the blankets over him before he pulled some normal clothes out of the closet. There were still a few greenish bruises on his arms so he opted for the thermal Steve had buried in there, squeezing into jeans and tip toeing out of the bedroom. 

Getting his neck covered up took all of the thirty minutes he’d woken up early for, making sure the marks—ligature marks, the doctor said—were faded or near invisible. He wasn’t exactly supposed to be touching his neck like this but there was no fucking way he was going back to school with them showing, with the evidence of Neil trying—succeeding in—for everyone to see. 

About forty minutes later he tiptoed back into the living room, the biggest mug of coffee he could find in one hand while the other quietly clicked the door shut. The guilt came back when he sat down on the edge of the bed, jostling Steve with his free hand. 

“Coffee, Steve,” he said quietly, peeling the blankets back. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

***

Steve grunted into the pillow, blinking into the cotton and nodding blearily – he sat up, blinking at the smell of coffee.  
“Mm…that smells so good…” he sighed, rubbing at one eye. “’m up, ‘m up. Just, hang on a sec….”

Steve wandered to the dresser where a drawer was all ‘Steve stuff’. He stepped into a pair of blue jeans and a pale blue button up polo with grey stripes. He scrubbed both hands over his face and then ran them through his hair in lieu of a comb, squinting at Billy. 

“Ready, just gonna…brush my teeth.” His eyes drifted down to the steaming mug in Billy’s hands, then back up to – wait, no, they got stuck on Billy’s neck. An incredulous look passed over Steve’s face, like a cat that’d gotten it’s tail stepped on as he took a quick step towards the other boy, one hand extended as if to touch, to confirm – “Hey, your neck, what – ?“ That wasn’t possible, it was still healing, it - 

***

“Max jacked some Revlon shit for me last week,” Billy said, mouth twisting a little in the corner, pushing the mug into Steve’s hands so he didn’t touch, didn’t mess the concealer up. “I just can’t...people can’t see it.”

He moved to the bed and straightened the sheets and blankets, feeling legitimately restless for the first time since getting out of the hospital. Staying at his new home this whole time had been some kind of nice vacation, his exhaustion so overwhelming he had no choice but to rest. Now he had something to be anxious about and he was honestly surprised he wasn’t bouncing off of the walls. He looked back at Steve when he was finished, hands still holding a pillow, smacking it into submission. 

“I not blend it right or something? Never really done it before.”

***

“Thanks,” Steve nodded at the coffee. “Well, no I mean – no. It looks…good. I couldn’t tell. But shit, you’re not, not supposed to touch it. I mean, you could’ve worn a turtle neck or something.” Steve winced a little at that – Steve liked turtle necks just fine, but he didn’t imagine it was a Billy thing, exactly – or well, at all. “I know that’s not really your style, but…and I could’ve bought the makeup for you.” 

Steve sipped at the coffee, shoulders easing a little when he realized it was sweetened with sugar, and not as black as it looked. It was nice, that Billy knew how he took his coffee, that he remembered. But he thought they were out of milk, Steve should probably grab some when he swung by Meldvalds. Like it was his house, or something…

”If you’d told me, I’d’ve bought some. Max doesn’t need to – to jack anything.” He shook his head. He had plenty of money, they really didn’t need to steal shit. Especially because he knew that the only place with makeup was Meldvald’s, and if Joyce’s boss found out – she could get in real trouble. “It could get someone in trouble.” 

He frowned at Billy attacking the pillow. He knew he was being a fucking worry wart this morning, and he didn’t mean to – he had told himself last night on repeat to just fucking chill this morning or he was gonna freak Billy out, or like, make it worse somehow -–but honestly the anxiety was getting to him too. And he was so tired. He didn’t want Billy to have to fucking deal with those losers at school, or the graffiti, or the whispers, or the slurs. 

***

“Sorry, just habit,” Billy said, nibbling on his lower lip as he straightened the pillow out, setting it down and leaving it be. “Won’t do it again, scout’s honor and shit.”

He approached the closet again and pulled out his black leather jacket, giving it a moment of thought before he slipped it on. He’d been wearing it the first time he’d seen Steve, frozen in his drunken tracks, vaulting fucking furniture just to get a better look at him. 

“Wore this the first time I saw you,” he said, looking down at the leather and walking to the bedroom door. He pulled it open and reached out for Steve, fully expecting a hand to slot into his. “Think I was eating toilet paper or something, somehow I remember that.”

***

Steve felt a little better that he wouldn’t be putting Max up to stealing again, because like, Steve’s family had so much money they didn’t know what to do with it. He was seriously more than happy to buy anything they needed or wanted, really. All he had to do was ask. 

Steve’s gaze swept over Billy in that leather jacket, looking super hot, the familiar one from Tina’s party last year – the one where Steve really hadn’t been able to figure out if it was actually supposed to be a Halloween costume, or if he was just trying to look sexy as hell. Mission accomplished, really, with those gloves, but it had taken Steve a while to determine that it wasn’t supposed to be something specific. It had really bothered him for like a week until Nancy had pointed out it wasn’t actually from anything, and Steve was just being an ‘idiot’ and why did he care so much?

He smiled gently at the memory, swallowing the coffee more quickly now as he reached out to catch Billy’s hand, swinging their arms a little as they headed into the hall. He laughed a little at the toilet paper thing, “I remember! God I remember, I do, I saw you from across the room -–you yanked down that toilet paper like it had personally offended you or something, you’re so cute.” He smiled and leaned in to leave a sleepy, coffee flavored kiss against Billy’s rough cheek. “I seriously spent all week trying to figure out what you were supposed to be dressed as other than ‘hot.’” 

***

Billy wrinkled his nose at the word cute over his shoulder; he’d been hearing that a few too many times during this hibernation time, no energy to do his hair or anything, big curls getting in the way. He’d opted not to do it today either because he figured if he gave less of a shit it might make him cooler. Tommy’d probably still lick his boots over it, bitch about how straight his hair was like it was some kind of travesty. 

“I was The Terminator, duh Steve,” he said as they passed through the kitchen, his free hand ruffling the top of Max’s head before he swept his car keys off the counter. “Max, Steve didn’t know I was Schwarzenegger last Halloween. Told you I should’ve just worn those fuckin’ sunglasses. Time to go, brat.”

***

After ducking into the bathroom to literally run the toothbrush over his teeth in like three swipes, once over his tongue, and spat it out - Steve stumbled back into the hallway, mouth gaping open a little, a furrow between his brows as he stopped dead in the hallway. 

“Dammit…” He grumbled, and finished up the coffee - tossing it in the sink as they passed through the kitchen to wash later.  
“I’m gonna kill Nancy. She told me you weren’t dressed as anything and I was being an idiot. Morning, Max.” He waved a little at Max as they headed out to the Camaro, all of them driving together since it didn’t make sense to take two cars, and Steve didn’t have such a hot take on Billy driving yet. 

She gave him a shrewd look as she threw her backpack strap over one shoulder, carrying her board with the other – wheels bumping against her thigh. 

“I dunno maybe you are an idiot.” She said, brows raised. “He was so obviously The Terminator, who wouldn’t get that?” 

Steve’s mouth flinched as he rolled his eyes, jangling Billy’s keys as he got the Camaro unlocked. Because he was definitely the one driving - they’d already decided that the other day, and Steve had really dug his heels in. 

***

Billy flicked Max in the arm for the word idiot and waved her into the backseat, slumping into the passenger seat with a huff. He still wasn’t crazy about this idea but he’d already kicked up a fuss once. All he’d gotten for his trouble was Steve putting his hand on his hip and pointing at him, saying no way no way, not happening. It wasn’t intimidating but it was fucking adorable so he hadn’t put up a fight after. 

The whole drive to school Billy was lost in his head again, gazing out the windshield at nothing. Today would be fine. Everything could at least be a little bit normal. Tommy and Carol and Tina would still end up at his heels and girls would fret over the bruise on his face instead of the horrifying ones on his neck. He’d get to sit in the back of class and shoot out answers, show the guidance counselor all the make up work he’d done, head injury and all. 

It would be fine. 

***

The drive was almost uncomfortably silent as Steve did his best to manage the stick shift – he knew how to drive stick, but he’d only done it so many times, and the Beamer was an automatic. But he did fine. Didn’t destroy anything or drop the transmission. It was weird that Billy didn’t turn on the music, so it was this stifling silence. When they finally pulled up to park at the lot between the high school and middle school, Max hopped out and waved, skating off in a straight line towards Hawkins Middle. Steve paused, twisting his hands over the vinyl of the steering wheel, making it squeak against his palms, swallowing and glancing at the school. People were already parking and heading in across the pavement.

“Look…” He said slowly, not quite meeting Billy’s eye. Watching the school. “I don’t…want….to freak you out. And…things….will be fine. But I just wanted - ” He cleared his throat, scratching at his nose where the healing had started to really itch around the break. Finally turning to look at Billy with cautious, dark doe eyes. “It’s just, Hawkins is a really small town. Surrounded by other small towns. People…talk. I just want to make sure you know that – well – that word travels around here. I know you hate Indiana, but, that’s definitely one of the worst parts about living around here.” Besides world-eating hell holes. “It’s a town of – gossips. You know, bored housewives sticking their noses over neighbors fences and shit. Word through the grapevine, and all that. And…well. Yeah. Just – stay with me, okay? And I’ll walk with you to classes. And just, I love you, okay?” 

He’d kick anyone’s ass who even messed with Billy. Giving Steve shit was one thing, but Billy’ been through enough, and Steve 110% wasn’t having it. 

***

Billy frowned at Steve’s words, playing them in his head again to see if there was anything he’d missed. Walk with him to classes? It didn’t compute, worst case scenarios in his mind aside. He’d dealt with Neil Hargrove and even some bigots in passing, it couldn’t be as bad as that. Steve had been alluding to people knowing about them, or just thinking they knew about him and Steve. But their bullshit couldn’t touch him. 

Right?

“Love you too,” he said, sparing Steve one more long look before stepping out of the Camaro, looking around after the door had slammed shut. 

Tommy was across the lot, Carol and Tina in tow like he’d come to expect. Only Tommy wasn’t heading his way, he was boring fucking holes into him with his eyes. His stomach started to drop but he tried to ignore it, eyes all over the parking lot falling on him, then away, then back again. He looked at Steve then, the frown still there as he threw his bag over his shoulder, started a slow walk that felt more like a death march than anything. 

***

Steve swung out of the Camaro – trying to remember to lock it like Billy always did, because nobody locked their cars in Hawkins, but they did in Cali, - heading after Billy and tucking the keys into the back pocket of his backpack. He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking along at Billy’s side over the asphalt, keeping his eyes trained forward on the school. He’d already been putting up with this shit since he’d come back to school, had the time to adjust, and really it’s not like he’d had much of a social status to worry about – but really, he thought, what they were most interested in was Billy. 

Because Billy was the one that had been really hurt, and that had had the cops called, and it was Billy’s dad, not Steve’s – even if the word going around was that they were ‘fucking queers,’ Steve knew their real interest was piqued around Billy. Because at least with Steve, he’d been with Nancy – he’d been with a lot of girls – but apparently word had gotten around that none of the girls who said they’d been with Billy had actually fucked him, and wasn’t that weird? That he hadn’t done it with any of the girls at Hawkins High? 

Nancy was close to the doors with Jonathan, gesturing to him about some sort of animated conversation until Steve caught her eye – he gave her a short wave. Her piercing blue gaze flicked between him and Billy, and she got that little pursy mouth look she got sometimes when she was displeased. Jesus. Steve sighed internally and headed towards them, hoping Billy would follow his change of course – because Nancy and Jonathan were a ship of safety on rough seas, and he thought Billy could benefit from them too. Even with that look Nancy was giving him. 

He knew Billy needed people, and so Steve’s only people would have to do. 

***

Billy’s head was fucking spinning with the amount of eyes on him. Usually he’d be preening over this shit but it didn’t feel right. It felt more like he was being examined than adored, and none of the people who usually sidled up to him were coming. They were looking at him in fascination, some in barely withheld disgust, and he waited for rage to start burning inside of him. It never really came. 

“Hey Steve,” Jonathan said as Steve moved closer, Billy just a step or two behind. His mouth turned into a polite, awkward line then, arm moving in an aborted sort of wave. “Hey uh—Max said you’re doing a lot better.”

Billy’s attention was finally caught to where they were walking to and he stopped, momentarily thinking of stomping over to the middle school and asking Max exactly what she’d decided was okay to say to people. The rage still didn’t come then, just something uncomfortable, all of it adding up to a sour feeling in his stomach. 

“Just peachy,” he said distractedly, watching Tommy walk past him, those eyes still glued to him, looking for something. Then he noticed Nancy—pretended to just be noticing her. “Wheeler.”

***

“Hey, Jonathan.” Steve nodded at Jonathan, that cool guy nod. He tried to catch Billy’s eye, but he was entirely distracted – not paying much attention, as he gave it mostly to the crowd that was passing by them in pairs or groups, eyeballing them. The hot topic of the week. Maybe the month. Who knew. Steve knew it would blow over – things like this always did, eventually. 

“Nance.” Steve gave them both a tight smile, half of his internal attention on Billy at his side, not on them. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing.” Nancy threw a sharp look at Billy, barbed around the edges, nostrils flaring at the ‘wheeler’ comment. “Hargrove.” She replied, voice cool. 

Steve gave her a look like ‘what now?’ because she’d been mostly downplaying everything last week, so seriously, what now? Why now? Why now that Billy was back was she acting like this? She and Jonathan had carefully skirted the issue that was on everybody else’s tongues after Steve’d gotten back, even if he’d told him a few of the very, very bare bones of what had happened – and that really hadn’t confirmed anything about Billy’s dad, or why it had happened. He didn’t wanna be spouting Billy’s business, even if he did trust them. It just wasn’t his story to tell, so. 

He knew Nancy didn’t particularly like, nor trust, Billy Hargrove. She’d said as much to him. She was still pretty hung up on last fall – when Billy’d knocked him silly, bloody, against the Byer’s living room floor. Also, him constantly hitting on her mom at certain intervals in the past had really soured her against him. 

Steve sighed, glancing heavenward, then back down to her. Mouthed the words ‘c’mon, please?’ For the love of god, just this once, Billy needed some friendly faces and Steve didn’t know whose else’s to offer. Nancy seemed to ease a little at that, adjusting the trapper keeper with the rainbow sticker against her chest, giving him a look before glancing at Billy. “It’s really nice to see you back at school, Billy. We heard you were out – sick.”

***

“Yeah, something like that,” Billy said, his voice almost flat before he saw the look on Steve’s face. It was that exasperation he always got before he decided to act all chipper about shit, so desperate for things to be alright. It had worked at home and he knew it when he saw it, his posture relaxing, his voice too. “Thanks—Nancy.”

He hoped it was enough to satisfy Steve. What he wanted to do was grab onto Steve’s arm like he’d had to the first few days back home from the hospital, almost traumatic brain injury scrawled on a clipboard Susan kept in the kitchen. He’d forgotten what this was like and now that he was back it didn’t look anything like he’d remembered and—what the fuck was on his locker?

“Hey man, I’m gonna ask my mom if she knows how to get spray paint out of m—“

Jonathan was talking, sounded nice even, but he was already moving away. Like a moth to a flame, one that said FAGGOT up and down his locker. 

***

Nancy’s mouth got all pinched again as she walked up alongside Billy by the locker, observing it with an almost clinical gaze, before she looked up at Billy – head tipping a little, her curly bob shifting to the side. Something within her easing. “Look, I know – what it’s like, with the whole spray paint thing. I had – Tommy H. spray-painted something really nasty about me, on The Hawk Marquee. In front of the whole town. So, I understand. The best thing to do is try and not let it get to you – we’ll help you clean it off.” 

Steve was at Billy’s other side, studying the locker, arms folded tight over his chest, magma bubbling in his belly – burning hot and too bright and wrong. Jaw tight, but he was trying not to let it show. He knew who’d done it.  
“Yeah and I know who did it. Same person as The Hawk.” He sighed. “But hey, look, it’s alright! We’ll scrub it off.” Just like he’d scrubbed ‘Nancy’ and ‘Slut’ off the marquee for All The Right Moves. “Why don’t we just grab your things out if it, and we can go? I’ll get it cleaned up during my free period after Bio. It’ll be good as new.” He smiled brightly, trying to nudge Billy lightly in the side – but also trying not to touch him too much, he didn’t need to exactly verify rumours, that would just make this shit worse. And he needed to pretend like everything was okay, for Billy. 

***

Billy pulled the locker open and frowned into the abyss where the light wasn’t hitting it. He was expecting his face to get all screwed up in anger but it just...wasn’t there. His expression crumpled in a completely different way but he hid it by rifling through the locker for his English books, shoving them into the bag and narrowly resisting the urge to hit his head against the locker door. 

When he turned around there were three—kind looking faces on him. Nancy looked a lot softer, less shrewd. Jonathan looked sympathetic, like he was sniffing Billy out. Steve—god, he loved Steve. He wanted more than anything to hug him then, kiss the hell out of him, even say I love you. He hoped the tiny kick of his boot against Steve’s shoe said it, the minuscule upturn of his lips. 

“I—thanks, all of you,” he said uncomfortably, embarrassment making the back of his neck practically itch. He shut the locker closed and sighed slowly, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Okay, I—if it’s not a big deal. I can take care of it too.”

***

Steve couldn’t find Billy. He was a little perplexed because he knew Billy’s schedule pretty well, and he’d swung by the AP English class on their way to lunch to grab Billy so that they could all eat together. But there was no Billy. And there was no desk in the room that Billy usually sat at. So. That was weird. It gave Steve a feeling of dread, one that overwhelmed him in the pit of his stomach. He picked up the pace after that. 

He checked the bathrooms and he checked the lunch room and he checked the alley outside the gym, even the gym itself. No Billy. He finally started outside – into the parking lot where half the people were enjoying the sunshine, sitting on top of car hoods or sprawled out in the spring brown grass. Steve had Billy’s keys in his backpack still, so he hadn’t thought – but yeah. There he was. Steve frowned and settled down onto the asphalt alongside Billy, his eyes glancing off the side panel on which they leaned – angry silver key marks streaked up the side. Steve settled onto his ass and looked over at Billy. He fiddled with his fingers in his lap, which were still stained spray-paint red from when he’d scrubbed Billy’s locker during his free period. It felt like a strange form of de-ja-vu.

“Hey,” He said softly. “You okay? What are you doing out here?” 

***

“They put my desk in the bathroom,” Billy said, looking down at Steve’s hands. The sight put a little warmth in him, even though it was tinged at the edges. “In English. I always sit in the back but the desk wasn’t there. Somebody took it out, had to hunch in a chair the whole time.”

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, the long lines of somebody’s car keys all along the driver’s side of the Camaro. He was still waiting for anger but it didn’t come. His eyes roamed over the car but the anger didn’t come, nothing really came. Basketball practice was in a few hours and he didn’t know if he could face it, even face quitting. Maybe he just wouldn’t go, would have Steve drive him and Max back home and let Steve go back. If he even would. 

“Quitting the team today. Probably for the best.”

***

Steve ducked his head, a flush of red spreading up his neck as he swallowed down a wash of anger – his fingers curling up uselessly in his lap, flexing, and uncurling again, before repeating. “Those…dickwads.” He seethed under his breath. “Those, those fuckers. Shit, they don’t even…it’s just a rumor.” They both knew it wasn’t. But nobody else knew that. Nobody but Tommy – and Steve knew that was the problem. Tommy. Otherwise, he knew, people would probably let it ride, whisper about it behind their hands until something different and interesting happened or popped up that they could gossip about. 

Steve’s head snapped up a little at Billy’s last comment, looking at him in shock, brown hair curling over his forehead from running his hand through it one too many times. He followed Billy’s eyes along the grooves of dug in key marks. Felt sick. Billy loved the Camaro.

“What? Hey no, you don’t need to do that – you’re like, the best team captain we’ve ever had. Your plays are gonna get them to State, we haven’t been to state in like…fifteen years. Don’t quit. You love the team.” He wished he could reach out and hold Billy’s hand. Instead, he just curled them up on impulse. “Just give it like, a week. It’s gonna blow over. These things always do. Once something else shiny catches those jerks attention, they’ll forget about it, okay? Look, I know who's doing it. I’m gonna talk to him.” Or kick his ass.

***

“Alright, a week,” Billy said reluctantly, chewing his cheek until he winced, made himself stop. “Think I know who it is too. You know, I don’t even feel like—I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

He shook his head at himself and tried to straighten his spine, wincing again. Hunching for even an hour made his insides ache, made him picture a can of saltines shaken up too much, everything broken up inside. 

“I almost got—disappointed, I guess. Coming here this morning, expecting everything to be the same. It’s not going to be now, is it? Nobody’s gonna look at me the same.”

***

Steve sighed and knocked his head back against the camaro side panel, just enough as he frowned and let his gaze drift out over the parking lot – over the Hawkins High student body scattered out soaking up the sunshine, some of them casting looks over at them through the gap in the cars. Steve shook his head a little, rocking it to the side just enough to study Billy’s profile – the hunch of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw, the little dip in his mouth. The busted up line of his nose. Steve hated seeing him like this. Hated seeing him so fragile and unsure of himself, so broken. And he hated people for making him feel that way. 

“I’m – I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I should’ve…told you, sooner. I just didn’t want to scare you.” Steve frowned down at his hands, spread open loose in his lap now. At the red on his fingertips. “It’s gonna blow over. People will forget. Nobody knows it’s…true. They’ll forget. I’ll talk to Tommy. He’s the only one that knows. It’s why he’s doing this.” 

Steve’s gaze drifted up to the blue of the sky, nearly cloudless, funny for this time of year. The sky was such a bright blue, and he squinted into it. Thinking about what he wanted to say, before he turned to look at Billy again, eyes sharp and focused, trying to communicate his point about going back to normal with more than his words.

“It might not. They might not. But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I know how…important, it is to you. I mean, it used to be really, really important to me too. But honestly, it’s like…the other shoe is always gonna drop. When people have you up on a pedestal like that, if anything goes wrong, or anything…anything real happens, it’s like…” 

Steve tipped his chin down, not sure how to finish that sentence. He knew that his own experiences weren’t like Billy’s, and that it wasn’t equal. Steve had ‘gone bitch’ or whatever and lost his social standings, whereas Billy’s was different. He’d never choose this. How could he explain that you got used to it with time? That in a way, it was better, because you found out who the people were who really cared about you – without saying that all those other people hadn’t cared about you in the first place? That wasn’t what Billy wanted to hear. 

“You find out who your real friends are. Who the good ones are.”

***

Billy thought about it, really tried to anyway. He’d never had close friends, not really. Growing up the way that he did made it impossible, too many lines to toe and too many farces to keep up for things to be tolerable at home. Loneliness was just part and parcel when you lived under Neil Hargrove’s roof. Parting a crowd of people, standing in the middle without one person to talk to beyond whatever lines he’d been practicing. He knew the other students at Hawkins didn’t give a shit about him, but—

Not really caring either way was different than actively gunning for somebody, different than keying their car. 

“Well, got one at least,” he said softly, a weak smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Steve. Sweet, sure, supportive Steve. Hands stained from helping, maybe in more ways than one. 

***

Steve smiled back at Billy, a direct response to seeing that weak thing flit over Billy’s mouth – like Steve’s smile was sunshine, and it could help Billy’s own grow. He nudged the slouched over blonde with his shoulder, crooking his head sideways to get a better look at his boyfriend’s face. 

“More than one. You’ve got me, and Max, and well, Nancy and Jonathan are really alright if you give ‘em a chance. They’ll be there for you, too. We just have to ride this out, try not to let them get to you. It’s just the start of a new chapter, new place, new family, new life. Everything’s gonna work out, and it’ll all turn out alright. I promise.” 

He held out a pinky finger like that promise.

***

Billy had reveled in that pinky promise, maybe more than he should’ve. Just that small touch in the middle of a fucking shitty day was comforting and it had him hoping he could convince Steve to come over for dinner. Even just sneaking in later would be okay, maybe neither of them would sleep, maybe they could just look at each other, imagine they were somewhere else. 

He tried to hold on to that thought as he talked to Coach, made himself say he couldn’t play for another week instead of quitting like he’d planned. The clap he got on the back was hesitant, like maybe Susan had let the administration know what actually happened, how Neil had crunched his ribs and destroyed his face. 

He didn’t bother changing, wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. The thought of people staring at the fading bruises on his arms, on his ribs that he hadn’t bothered to cover up, was enough to steer that idea far fucking away. Instead he sat on the bleachers with the playbook next to him, thermal still on but his jacket in his lap, all those fucking eyes on him. No one came up to him for a play, no one asked him questions. Just—staring. 

***

Steve propped his hands on the hips of his short, green gym shorts, glancing around at the team surrounding him in something like disgust – everybody standing there like fuckin’ rubber neckers staring at an accident out of a car window. And they looked at him too. But honestly, Steve’s mystique had apparently faded over the last week, and this was Billy’s first day back – so yeah. He was getting stares. And he was the one that was fucked up enough that he was still benched, which, was better than quitting but it still hurt Steve in his heart. And nobody was even saying anything.

He clapped his hands twice to snap everybody out of their whole funk, startling the crickets in the background, smiling at Billy on the bleachers like he was the only thing in the world, and tilting his head back before he got his hands back on his hip bones.

“Alright, fearless leader, what’s the plan?”

***

Billy’s eyes moved from their sharp assessment of the team to Steve, some leftover calculating in his gaze. He was honestly considering just throwing the book at them and giving Coach the bird over the whole fucking thing but—pinky promise. Pinky promise, even if his neck burned with humiliation. 

“Need to practice Shuffle-Cut offense,” he said, waving the book at Steve for him to take a look, trying not to look fond, schooling his face. “So you, Sam, and Hall have to do the triangle until I can play. Makes it easier for playoffs, we’ll know if they do man-to-man defense or zone defense pretty quick.”

He watched Sam shuffle closer, craning his neck to get a look at the playbook. He looked reluctant to say the fucking least but at least there was one more person who wasn’t going to be a complete shit head about it. 

Steve cocked his head, gaze flitting over the playbook as he took it in in about ten seconds. He used to be team captain, once upon a time, and it came to him pretty easily – he could see what Billy was going for and what he wanted to do, and it’d actually be really smart.

***

“Okay yeah, we can do that.” Whiskey sharp eyes flitted up to Tommy, still standing back with the group, arms folded over his chest. If he was third in the triangle he needed to fucking look at the thing, but he was just standing there like a little asshole. “You care to join us Hall, or what?” Steve snapped, feeling crabby, eyebrows inching up towards his magnificent hairline.

“Y’know I don’t think I do, threesomes aren’t really my thing.” Tommy sneered, throwing his shoulders back, bare chest sticking out like he was hot shit – he always played skins on Billy’s team. 

The team hooted at that, throwing wide eyed glances between Tommy, and Billy, Steve and Sam at the bleachers. A line of war drawn in the sand between them, and the masses were eager to see which side would win. 

Steve clamped his teeth together so hard his molars ached, a muscle twitching in his cheek – but he’d been putting up with Tommy’s bullshit for well over a year, and he was practically immune. He just didn’t like it being directed at Billy – not one bit.

“Just get your ass over here and go over it, and let’s play ball.” He said cooly, not a hair out of place, unmoved. He was so gonna kick Tommy’s ass, but he really didn’t need whatever had been building in his chest from Tommy giving Billy shit all day to come to a head at practice. He just didn’t. Neither of them did. 

Tommy rolled his eyes like a little bitch, making a real pretty freckled face, then jogged over to briefly glance at the line up. Keeping his distance like he was gonna catch something. “Whatever. Looks good. Happy, your highness?”

***

“Hall, you’re 3,” Billy said, motioning for Tommy to take the book. When he seemed to flinch away instead his jaw went tight, worked a little. The anger still didn’t come but he wouldn’t let his shoulders sink further, wouldn’t. “Sam, show him the fucking play.”

He looked somewhere off in the distance when Sam took the book from him, nothing hesitant about touching something he had. It was a small comfort, minuscule but there, even if Tommy wasn’t getting near it. Like he was sick. Born wrong, his mind supplied. 

“Have to practice your cutting if we’re gonna do playoffs, you haven’t been drilling like I told you,” Billy said, practically speaking to the other side of the gym, eyes still on nothing in particular. “You have to get better at feeding, I’m still out until next week so you’re not gonna have a post player to make those shots.”

“Have to practice your cutting if we’re gonna do playoffs, you haven’t been drilling like I told you,” Billy said, practically speaking to the other side of the gym, eyes still on nothing in particular. “You have to get better at feeding, I’m still out until next week so you’re not gonna have a post player to make those shots.”

***

“You mean you’re actually coming back? You’ve got some balls.” Tommy sniffed as he glanced down at Billy – his arms were still folded tight over his chest as he didn’t reach out to touch the book, even if he did briefly examine it when Sam held it out to him. “I can pull this shit off easy. Don’t need your drills. C’mon let’s just do this.” 

The team broke up to arrange themselves for the play – Steve’s hair was already sweaty because he always started sweating like a fucking pig after running suicides, the neck of his Phys Ed shirt already damp with it before they’d even started. Hair curling back with perspiration as he started at the opposite end of the court from Tommy, dribbling and working around the ‘opposing’ teammates until he could pass the ball to Sam. 

Already falling into the easy energy on the court where drama and shit usually fell away into background noise and he could just play the game. It was something he really needed, and it normally helped him relax. (More so since Billy’d stopped heckling him.)

***

A week, it’s just a week. Just wait a week. 

Billy tried to replay Steve’s words in his head, turn them into some mantra to keep him from screaming his head off. Most of the team had stopped staring at him to either play or watch, another minuscule blessing. Sam was following the play like he’d asked, cutting through to grab the ball from Steve, faking one of the guys out in a move that almost, almost made him smile. 

Once Tommy had it though, he wasn’t doing anything with it. He wasn’t getting closer to the hoop, just fucking dribbling slow, feet away from Steve for what? Even the other players started yelling for him to shoot but he looked petulant, freckled face screwed up stubbornly. 

“Hall, take the shot!” Billy yelled, the tone of voice he usually took during practice before he was about to throttle somebody. “For Christ’s sake, take it or pass.”

***

What the fuck was Tommy doing? He was just standing there dribbling, with the offense on his ass trying to steal the ball – Steve was right there, but with the formation Tommy was supposed to take the shot – it was literally the whole point. 

“What the hell’re you doin’, man?” Steve asked him, getting up close. He could hear Billy yelling at them. “Here just pass it to me, I’ll take it – I’m open – “ He held up his hands as if to accept the ball, but Tommy just sort of glowered at him. There was the squeak of sneakers on the baseboards and heavy breathing, the beat of the rubber ball, and suddenly Tommy was in his face, still dribbling as teammates tried to snatch it from him. 

“Get outta my face, Stevie.” He snapped. He threw the ball into the chest of one of their other teammates, some random dude that wasn’t even really a part of the play. The players that had been swarming around them chased after the ball like moths to the flame, leaving them alone on the court – the game still in progress. Steve’d felt almost smothered before by gross, sweaty bodies, but now it was just Tommy getting in his face. 

Steve grit his teeth, taking a staggered step back. “Man get out of mine, what the hell – we’re on the same team, here – “ 

Tommy’s voice had dropped low. “No, no I don’t think we’re on the same team.” He snapped.

“What the hell is your problem.” Steve hissed back at him – isolated at the opposite end of the court from the team.

“You know exactly what my problem is!” Tommy huffed back at him, all under his breath – none of the words carrying. Still up in Steve’s face. He shoved Steve’s shoulder.

Steve did know what it was.

“First that girl, falling in love with that girl, and now this – ? I mean you can’t be serious! – “ Tommy was red in the face from exertion, almost as sweaty as Steve, and they were both humming with adrenaline and energy. 

“You’re with Carol, man, you’ve been with Carol – why are you acting like he’s a fucking leper, you – “ 

“Yeah I’m with Carol! Since seventh grade, Steve! You remember, seventh grade – ?“ He shoved Steve again by the shoulder, rough. 

Coach blew the whistle at them. “HALL! HARRINGTON! FOCUS, LADIES!” 

They ignored him. “Yeah I remember seventh grade, that – “

“You said, you said – “ Tommy growled low in his throat, and he shoved Steve with both hands this time. Hard enough he almost fell.

Steve snapped and shoved him right back. “Back off, Tommy!” He seethed back at his ex-best friend. A blank spot that was as aching as a ghost limb. “You really don’t want to do this with me right now! Quit being a fucking asshole!”

***

“Steve, c’mon,” Sam called, voice a little thin. Like he knew it was futile to argue when Steve and Tommy had those looks on their faces, steam coming out of their fucking ears. “Hey assholes, we need to practice.”

Billy had started worrying the inside of his cheek again, frowning so hard he was getting a fucking tension headache when Tommy ran into the Steve the first time. The first shove had him setting the playbook down, the air in the gym getting thicker. The second one, both hands, almost knocking Steve over, had him standing right up. 

He didn’t know why he wasn’t saying anything, just inching forward slowly. Boots didn’t squeak much on the gym floor and it made him feel more out of place, dressed in civvies in a gym full of uniforms or shorts. Still he moved closer, glancing at Coach as he blew the whistle again, moving slower when Steve shoved back with his teeth bared. 

***

Steve was idly aware of Billy in his peripherals – almost like he had this sort of sixth sense of him being near, or getting closer – prowling towards them like some kind of a panther across the gym. The whistle was pausing the game, especially now that Billy was on the gym floor. Steve got distracted for a second by Billy, glancing over Tommy’s shoulder as his nostrils flared wide. He pointed like he did at the kids sometimes when he knew they were about do some really dumbass thing. “You! No, don’t even think about it – NO - “ He started at Billy, thinking of broken ribs, a skull fracture, his fucking throat, and – Tommy was rounding on him like a fucking wolf, teeth clenched, and the second Steve addressed Billy he fucking clocked him. Right in the nose. 

His face fucking exploded – it wasn’t even that mean of a right hook, but his nose was still jacked up, and he saw white stars everywhere before he was barreling right into Tommy, all of the pent up energy of the day – the scrape of the brillo pad on Billy’s locker, staining his fingers red, of the deep key grooves in the side of Billy’s beloved navy camaro – the stares and the jeers and the atmosphere that Steve just knew was being stoked by Tommy’s dumb ass, well – it all just burst out of him at once, like a wave cresting and slamming down. Then he was pounding a fist into Tommy ‘s stomach as he surged forward and knocked them both to the gym floor, sneakers screeching against the gym floor as they went down. 

But Tommy’d seemed to be waiting for it, and Steve was still blinded by his nose, which throbbed with his heartbeat. Then Hall got a hand into his shirt – there was no purchase on Tommy, he was all skins – but he got Steve by the collar and shoved him over to get on top of him and really get in another couple good punches. 

“Never was good in a fight, Stevie boy!” He howled at him, kneeing into his side at a kidney as Steve grappled with him, hands on his shoulders, punching him right back. 

The whistle was going crazy and it was ringing in his ears and he couldn’t really see Tommy and he wondered if he’d have stood a better chance if he hadn’t gone for Steve’s nose first. His front felt wet and Tommy’s fist slid funny against his cheek. But he thought he got in a couple good blind shots, too. Or at least he hoped so. 

***

People usually talked about ‘seeing red’ when they lost their shit. Neil used the phrase when he talked about Vietnam, school counselors used it to try and explain to Billy what was happening when he’d get angry. Right now, watching Steve get hurt, watching blood run down his shirt just like it had in the mall—

He wasn’t seeing anything. His brain was a calm, blank slate. He was going to smear Tommy across the gym floor, knock his teeth out, make it impossible for anyone to even recognize him and—

Coach was hauling Tommy off of Steve just a split second before Billy had reached them, fists clenched, knuckles an angry white. 

“Hargrove, take Harrington to the nurse’s office,” he said lowly, eyes flicking down to Billy’s hands before he got a good hold on Tommy’s arm, voice louder. “Practice is cancelled! Everybody hit the showers.”

Billy was on one knee next to Steve before everyone had even finished filing out, hands shaking as he got a hold of his forearms in a gentle pull to at least get him sitting. He looked—terrifying, and Billy hadn’t done anything. 

“You okay? Let’s—c’mon, nurse’s office,” he said, clearing his throat and helping Steve stand. “Make sure your nose is okay.”

***

“Mmmmphffffuck.” Steve said in reply as Billy helped him sit up, and eventually, to stand. He squinted back at Billy, hand slipping a little against the smaller, squared off one, like it was slick with sweat or something, but when he looked down it was all red and Steve got spooked and snatched his hand away. He reached towards his own face instead, which was pounding, and explored below his nose – licking his lips and tasting pennies. His phys. Ed shirt was painted macabre. 

“Gross.” He frowned at Billy, forehead crumpling, folding into wrinkles. “’m okay.” He mumbled around a numb tongue and stumbled after Billy towards the nurses office. 

“What an – asshole.” He grumbled, trying to pinch his nose and tilt his head back so that the faucet that was his nose would turn off – but it just made it hurt worse. He had to lean against Billy, stumbling a little. Dizzy, and holding onto his side, which fucking hurt too. “Such an asshole…” 

***

Billy got a hand around Steve’s upper arm and moved it back across his shoulders, wrapping his arm gingerly around Steve’s middle. Careful not to hold too hard, though he couldn’t help doing a little more. The hand around Steve moved to Steve’s nose, encouraging to tip his head forward as they walked. 

“Forward, not back, okay? You’ll swallow blood and make yourself sick,” he said, jaw tightening at the few eyes that stopped on them, body tensing. “What? Take a fucking picture.”

There wasn’t any response, not like he was expecting one. He tried to focus on getting them to the nurse’s office, letting the nurse sit Steve down and clean his face off, sitting in a little chair by the door. Just watching, not much else to do, just watching. 

“Can I do any—I’m sorry,” he said, voice quiet as the nurse stepped out to find Steve a shirt. “Really sorry, should’ve just fucking leveled him. Your nose, it—doesn’t look like it got broken again, at least.”

***

Steve leaned into the support of Billy Hargrove at his side, as solid against him as a fence post – but also wary because his knew his ribs were all fucked up and he didn’t wanna mess with them. Steve blinked blearily and followed Billy’s instructions, leaning his head forward instead of back, even if he felt like a real dipwad with his face hanging forward, sweaty hair obscuring his eyes. He sounded all plugged up when he talked, pinching his nose still. “Mokay, thanks. Got it.” 

He didn’t see whoever Billy was talking to, too busy keeping his eyes on the floor tiles and dripping blood as they went – a trail of crimson breadcrumbs behind them on the white and green checkerboard tiles. 

Once he got cleaned up a little by the nurse, tissues stuffed up his nose, and a new bandage over the bridge, he sulked at the edge of the bed, frowning down at his foot that swung restlessly off the side. Thinking his thoughts real hard, sort of spacing out about the way Tommy’d hissed ‘you said - !’ 

“Huh?” He glanced up at Billy with pain glazed eyes, drawn out of his thoughts for a second. “Oh no, no you don’t have to be sorry. I told you not to, remember? The last thing you need to do is be leveling anyone with your ribs. And I – I kind of…saw it coming, I guess. All day.” He felt a little more open to talking with Nurse Fritz out of the office. She spoke with a heavy German accent and didn’t take shit from anybody. “I can’t believe he’s been being such a little shit to you, then at practice – “ Steve shook his head, but immediately cut that out when a wave of dizziness washed over him at the movement. 

***

Billy moved forward to steady Steve and keep him upright, a hand closing on the small of his back, the other on his arm. He bit his bottom lip and fought back the urge to tilt Steve’s face closer to him, the weight of all the bullshit heavy on his shoulders. 

“I don’t know, I can believe it pretty easy,” he said, shrugging with one shoulder. Both hands gave a small squeeze before he let Steve go, worried about any prying eyes, pissed that he was worried in the first place. “More where that came from I bet. Thanks though, sweetheart.”

The last word was quiet, just loud enough for Steve to hear up close, that thin smile on his face. 

“I’ll drive us back, yeah?”

***

Steve let Billy drive them back in the BMW – definitely after he bitched for a while because Billy wasn’t supposed to be driving, but Steve felt like his head was floating somewhere closer to the clouds so he wasn’t really fit to, either. When they got back to the trailer, it was quiet, empty. Steve thought that Susan had already started her new job at Hawkins General Hospital, and Max was still at AV club and getting a ride home from Jonathan. 

He’d curled up with Billy on the bed after slamming down a few Ibuprofen and trying to breathe through his mouth – his head felt all swollen or something, and he felt pretty fucking out of it as he drifted. The room was dark, the only light filtering in from the dying sunlight outside, getting close to dusk. Peeping in between the slats in the blinds. Steve nuzzled his cheek into Billy’s shoulder, his arm loosely wrapped around his waist – careful of his ribs. He kept his nose pointed towards the ceiling so that he wouldn’t accidentally brush anything. He thought Billy was right – not broken again, but it had definitely hampered the healing process or whatever. Billy’d been quiet for a long time, they both had – and Steve thought Billy might’ve napped a little (Steve too,) but he could feel him stir against him now. He blinked his eyes open, hair curling into them. 

“Mmm…what’re you thinkin’?” He asked after a few.

***

Billy didn’t answer, not at first. He stared through the dark at the wood paneling of the bedroom wall, eyes lazily tracking the lines that separated each piece. His hand found the arm around his waist and held it loosely, a band of pain around his head that he knew must be from frowning. 

“Want to stay home. Don’t want to get up,” he whispered, closing his eyes hard like he might be able to make the days pass that way. “Susan’s got my meds so I can’t even get fucked up on them, sleep through another nightmare maybe. Everything’s just...different.”

***

“I’ll be here, if you do. Dream.” Steve nudged his cheek to the side to brush a kiss to the tip of Billy’s nose from the side, sort of stilted and awkward, but he was trying not keep his own nose suspended. “Is the pain getting worse?” He asked, in regards to the pills comment – though he thought it was smart of susan to keep them, so that Billy wouldn’t get too drugged up. 

“I can get you some ice. Why don’t we go lay on the couch, I’ll ice your ribs, and we can watch some cheesy movie on TV? Or we could watch MTV. I even bought you some of that chocolate ice cream you liked at my house, it’s in the ice box.” Steve smiled and gently ran his fingertips along the palm of Billy’s, the one that had rested over his forearm. He traced over that palm like he was a palm reader, searching out his life line. 

“I know, babe. I know it’s different. And I’m…I’m sorry. Is there, is there anything I can do?” 

***

“Couch...couch is good,” Billy whispered, though he didn’t make any moves to leave the bed. It was difficult to do lately, his muscles some frustrating mixture of tense and heavy as bricks. Doing shit like getting out of bed was becoming more and more difficult as time went on, something he was too embarrassed to tell Steve, like he was being lazy or something. 

He let Steve pester him into getting up, let him lay him down on the couch. The ice Steve held to his ribs made him flinch but he was quicker to get used to it now, laying flat on his back with a carton of ice cream on his chest, ridiculous sized spoonful shoved into his mouth. He watched Nina Blackwood on the screen half heartedly, her frizzy metalhead hair bouncing in front of him. 

“Gotta find somebody who’ll fix the car,” he said, mouth full, spoon digging in for more like it had offended him. “Somebody who doesn’t hate queers.”

***

Steve had arranged the ice carefully with a towel around it, and once he got it balanced, it basically held itself in place against Billy’s chest cavity. Only when he was flat on his back. Where Billy’s knees were bent up, Steve leaned against them, one arm tucked around Billy’s right calf, chin on his right knee, watching the set with sleepy, bruised eyes. His face had a heartbeat and it was making him sad. 

His gaze flicked over to Billy annihilating the choc ice cream, sniffing because his nose, and taking a smaller bite out of his own (bowl) of mint chip. Yeah he was sure he was super hot right now, but. 

“He doesn’t hate you. I think he’s the main one that’s making a big deal and you know, people are just…sheep. Especially at school. I think you freak him out, but. That’s all. Besides Tommy, everyone else in town is just gonna think it’s a rumor. I’m definitely not making excuses for Tommy Hall, trust me, I don’t know why he always thinks this shit is a solution to anything.”

***

“I think I’m supposed to be—I don’t know, I’d always just flatten people who stepped out of line,” Billy said, taking another bite and closing the carton up, setting it down on the ground next to the couch with the spoon balanced on top. “I wanted to kill Hall when he was hitting you, but I’m not angry. About any of the rest of it. I don’t know if that’s good or not.”

He could feel that tell tale chin wobble coming and swallowed hard, dragging his hand over his mouth to make sure there wasn’t any residual chocolate, left it hanging over the side of the couch. Suddenly he was even more focused on the television, watching the logo graphics change and warp into different neon variations. 

“Feels a lot like hate, and I just—guess I don’t have it in me. Anymore.”

***

Steve frowned down at Billy from where he’d braced his chin atop his knee, holding a little tighter to the calf under his arm. Studying him, even as the blonde tilted his head towards the television – the neon bright colors lighting up his face like main street. Steve rubbed his hand along the front of Billy’s shin. Steve…Steve didn’t know either, good or bad. But he’d try his best to understand.

“I know you did – “ Steve had been one of them. He eyed the way Billy’s chin was starting to wobble, a good sign that tears were close behind, and pressed a kiss to his denim clad knee. “And I…I don’t know. But I hope, it’s good? To not be angry. And to not, feel hate. What, what are you feeling, Billy? After what happened. It’s good to talk about things – about feelings. You can tell me how you’re feeling, and, I can listen. If it helps, I’ll always listen.” 

***

“I don’t—nothing,” Billy said, shrugging his shoulders, frustrated with himself when they stayed up. “It doesn’t feel like anything at all.”

He didn’t really know how to say it, if he should. He glanced at Steve and shrugged again, hardly any movement with them so close to his ears. Neil’s words rushed in and out and he squinted his eyes closed, tried to swat them away like flies. 

“He’s still ruining everything, even though he’s not here. Hopper said I don’t have to go in to testify, I’m not gonna see him. Now it doesn’t even feel like it matters, it just doesn’t matter. I’m not angry anymore but it’s like a fucking—crater got left behind.”

***

Steve reached over to grasp one of Billy’s hands from along his side, gently embracing it and rubbing his thumb over the bumps of his knuckles. 

“Like a crater, huh? Maybe…” Steve frowned his eyes drifting over Billy’s features – all scrunched up, eyes screwed closed. Billy’d seemed really down. Like really, really down, for weeks. Sometimes almost like a blank slate - Steve thought he was usually pretty good at reading people, but, it was difficult to read Billy lately. It almost seemed like he was still in shock or something, but Steve didn’t know if that was possible. And he remembered Will’s therapist talking about PTSD, apparently that was a thing. Maybe it was similar? He’d even heard Hopper talk about it.

“I’m not like – I mean, my aunt – I have a lot of aunts, see, and one of them is actually a therapist? Um she got interested in it to help post war vets, because of her dad – my grandpa. And, I’m not exactly my Aunt Bea, but, maybe it just needs to be filled...with...good things.. – “ Steve blinked, shifting, and lifted his chin off of Billy’s knees. He got this bright light in his eyes and this excited puppy look about him, like this was maybe a great idea!

“Baby, maybe – you could talk to my Auntie Bea. She helps people who’ve had different kinds of – um,” he cleared his throat a little, but this felt important. “Trauma. Maybe she’ll know how to fill the crater back up with good things again.” 

***

Billy forced himself into a sitting position after Steve spoke, the ice pack resting in his lap, his eyes there too. His voice sounded just different enough to make him look up and what he saw there was—bright. It was bright and kind and loving because Steve was, even when all the ugly things inside of Billy were oozing out of him. Even when he wasn’t of any use to anyone, even when they weren’t having sex while he got better. Good things again. 

He wasn’t sure what did it, really. Maybe the words Steve decided to use or how hopeful he looked, how sure he seemed that Billy could feel good again. Maybe the idea of having to talk to anyone but Steve about all of this, or the guilt of Steve being the only one who really had to deal with it. 

It didn’t matter much once he burst into tears, the little chin wobble from earlier not nearly enough to prepare him. He’d tried not to cry since that time in the hospital, his ribs and his face and his skull aching with it. But he couldn’t help it now, his right hand frantically trying to find Steve as he doubled over, left hand curled up over the ice like it might distract him enough to just make it stop. 

***

“Woooah hey, hey I’m sorry – I’m sorry maybe it was, a bad idea – I’m sorry – “ Steve’s mouth dropped open in a concerned little o as he slid over on the couch to insert himself between Billy and the sofa cushions. Where Billy was grabbing for him, searching for him, he tucked himself against him – arms curling around his shoulders and burying the side of his face against Billy’s curls, murmuring in his ear with low, soothing tones. “It’s okay, it’s okay, shhhh – “ He murmured, rubbing over Billy’s back in small circles and pressing kisses into his crown. “It’s alright….” 

He grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch and snapped off MTV, leaving a dark screen in it’s wake. They sat in silence like that for a while, ice cream melting in the cartons, with nothing but Billy’s broken sobs, and huffing breaths, with little pained sounds. Steve moved the ice out of the way, onto the floor, so it wouldn’t leak anywhere – and with the way Billy pressed his hand into it, like how Steve’d caught him shoving his hand into a broken out bulb of an eye that one time. 

Steve rocked him a little like that, with both arms around him like a safety net, humming a little nameless tune against his temple, and pressing butterfly light kisses to his cheekbone. 

***

“I’ll th-ink about it,” Billy said, breaths coming out in quick hiccups, face screwing up in frustration where it was tucked against Steve. “S-orry, fuck.”

Steve’s hand roaming over his back, the sweet sound of his voice, the feeling of his lips against his face was enough to at least drag him out of the pit he’d trapped himself in. He took a few long breaths and found he mostly did them because he knew what Steve would do, knew he’d feel that long swipe of his hand if he’d done it right, calmed himself down. 

“I will, I’ll think about it. I don’t want to—you don’t deserve all this messy shit,” he said, turning his head to look at Steve, a mournful expression at his newly re-bruised nose. “You don’t.”

***

Steve pulled away just enough to get a better look at Billy, so they could meet eye to eye – steady, warm dark chocolate to tear bright, ocean blue. Steve frowned at him, a little furrow between his brows in that pug wrinkle, and he tipped his head in concern. 

“I’d be really glad if you do, think of it. But that’s not why I mentioned it – it’s not because I don’t want it. I meant it, you can tell me anything, and I’ll always listen. I’d be your sounding board anytime. It’s not messy, and it’s not shit. It’s your feelings, and how you feel is important to me. I only think it’s a good idea to see if it might help you feel better. I just…love you, so much. I don’t want to see you hurting, or feeling empty. I only want the good things for you.” 

He leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to Billy’s mouth, mindful of not letting his fucked up nose touch Billy’s skin. “All the good things.” He breathed against those lovely pink lips. “Because you do deserve them.”

***

Billy looked fucking good. Better than he had all week, that’s for sure. Four days of his desk missing in his favorite class, four days of hiding in the Camaro during lunch despite Steve’s invitation, four days of slurs whispered in the halls all culminating into this. A fucking party, finally. He was off his pain meds so there was no stopping him from getting wasted for the first time in what felt like a fucking century, from being normal for five fucking seconds. 

“It’ll be fine,” he said, looking at himself in the mirror as he rubbed concealer over the front of his throat. It was almost perfect but he couldn’t tell in the lighting, eyes flicking to Steve’s reflection. “How’s it look? Evenly blended?”

***

Steve’s reflection stared right back, arms crossed tight over his chest, hair perfectly styled, in a nice navy blue sweater that Billy liked and tight black wash jeans. Glowering at Billy in the mirror, even if he did look fucking amazing, but – 

“Fine?” He asked, “Fine?” He sounded like MIKE. Good god.

He shook his head. “It’s not gonna be fine, it’s gonna be a disaster. I’m not trying to be the negative nellie here, but, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Jesus Christ, he sounded like a broken record, he’d said the same time like three hundred times since lunch. 

He could understand why Billy wanted to do it – he could. 

He knew what it was like to go to a party and want everything to be the same as it was, expecting it to be, to still be a Keg King and have people cheering and loving and adoring you and – he also knew what it was to go and be alone and wasted on the couch, and get spooked by the cat and then fall off of said couch. So.

Also, like, the whole fucking school had lost their fucking minds? Why did Billy want to spend MORE time around them? 

“Please? We could do something else. It’s Friday. D&D night with the nerds, movie night, we could go fuck around at the quarry? Nintendo? Literally anything else.” 

Steve pouted at Billy in the mirror, running a hand through his hair for the millionth time. He sighed like a defeated man. “Babe...you look amazing. You can’t even tell it’s there.” 

***

Billy shook his head, chin turned up as he finished the last of it, looking himself over one more time before turning to face Steve. He gave him a big, bright grin and fluffed his hair, a hand running down the center of Steve’s chest. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, sighing in relief as he straightened his necklace out. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Handsome, as always.”

Instead of continuing the argument or even acknowledging it he walked out of the bathroom in search of his well loved denim jacket. He tugged it out of the closet and walked down the hallway to the front door, shoving his feet into his boots to make it harder for Steve to tell him to stop again. 

“Okay, off we go,” he said cheerily, unbuttoning an extra button at the center for good measure. “Thank fuck the rest of the bruises are going away. Almost look like a normal person again.”

***

“Oh my gooooooooood you’re being such an asshole,” Steve false sobbed into the air wandering after Billy in the narrow, tiny hallway. He scowled as he shoved his feet into his Nikes, lacing them up like they had done something to personally wrong him. “Like, a really hot asshole, but still an asshole.” 

He stood up, almost ready to dig in his heels before actually being dragged out of the house. 

“Pong. I have that new football sports game. Mario? Or Dustin lent me some new book by Stephen King to read, I know you like him? There’s a Knight Ryder marathon on. How can you say no to Knight Ryder?” As he followed Billy outside to the car, and the beeline he made to the Camaro, really dragging his feet, he kept going. Now that they were outside, he said. “I will seriously give you a blow job if we go to The Hawk. There’s a new movie there I wanna see, and I’ll buy. With Candy. And soda! We could…could…” 

He desperately searched the night sky, full of stars, for an answer.

“Star – GAZE. Watch the stars. So romantic.” He half sobbed as he tripped into the passenger side behind Billy. Glaring mournfully over at him as he buckled his seatbelt. He paused in his tirade at what Billy said, blinking and immediately saying. 

“Billy, babe, my love, you always look normal, way more handsome, you never look anything other than stunning, so.” 

Then he cleared his throat.

“Uno. I have a pack of Uno cards. They’re in my TRUNK. I can get them right now. Boggle. If you want alcohol we can raid my old man’s liquor cabinet? Expensive, high quality shit.” 

***

“Another time, maybe,” Billy said, his tone still light while he peeled out of the makeshift driveway, leaving gravel dust in his wake. 

Tina’s house was a sight for sore eyes, something he never in a million fucking years imagined thinking. He looked good enough maybe people would forget, maybe he’d be entertaining enough to make people forget. Just for one fucking night, that’s all he wanted. 

He felt a few sets of eyes on him but for the first time in a week they weren’t gawking. They were roaming, drunk girls congregated on the front lawn bitching about their boyfriends or all the wine coolers being gone or some shit. Billy practically fucking preened, giving Steve a look that said see? as they pushed into the house. It only took a second to seek out a giant punch bowl of mystery liquid, another second to gulp a full cup down. 

“Thank fuck.”

***

Steve followed a few steps behind Billy, mouth pursed tight, and slipped the Ray-Ban’s that had been hooked into the front of his sweater on – darkening the entire night. But he still caught the ‘see?’ look that Billy gave him, and made an even bitchier look as he followed hot on Billy’s heels. Not quite walking side by side. 

It had been a really long fucking week, and his stress level was through the roof. 

He knew Billy’s was too, and he knew that’s why he wanted to party, but jesus god something was gonna go wrong, Steve just knew it, he just KNEW it, sometimes he got these – these feelings, he didn’t know, just these feelings and sometimes they meant bad things were gonna happen and it was LIKE THAT and Billy wasn’t listening to him. Steve caught some of the looks some of the girls were giving Billy, and it wasn’t the same look as at school – it was that look of wanting to get laid. Steve felt something hot flare up in his belly and he had to stamp it down, pushing his shades up on his nose with his middle finger like a low key flipping the bird at them without being obvious. When they got to the punch bowl, Steve poured himself a red Solo cup of the golden, orange-ish liquid and sipped at it – eyeing Billy out of the corner of his shades. 

He knew Billy wanted this. He just needed to ease the fuck up, he knew he was being crazy. He just needed to fucking CHILL. He could do that, right. Steve swallowed hard and forced himself to take more than a swallow of the spiked punch. Trying to follow Billy’s example, since they were here, and it wasn’t like Steve was gonna go off and leave him alone here. Was why he’d gotten in the car, because he couldn’t exactly stop Billy from going, but he could stop him from going ALONE. 

So he stood there, mouth sealed, shoulders up around his ears, looking like a wet, pissed off cat, solo cup clenched in one hand.

***

“Steve, just chill out a little,” Billy said, seconds away from putting on a face he usually reserved for getting Steve to bring him something or give him the last beer. He filled the cup and drained it just as quick again, a twinge in his jaw as he swallowed. Whoever mixed it really wasn’t a fucking expert on ratios. 

He ushered Steve to follow him out toward the sliding glass door in the back of the house, a few roaming hands making him twitch but not much else. Tonight was supposed to be about acting normal, not like some animal who spooked easy. He looked over his shoulder and flashed another sweet, carefully charming smile at Steve before pushing his way out to the back patio. 

It was pretty easy to get a cigarette off of someone, a hell of a lot easier than trying to convince Steve that it had been his throat that got fucked up, not his lungs. The first drag felt perfect, normal, like it should be in a way nothing really had all week. Even seeing Tommy out of the corner of his eye didn’t sour his mood, made him roll his neck out like he was shaking something off. 

***

“I’m chill. I’m super chill.” Steve said into his cup, trying to drink a little more, trying to loosen up as he followed Billy around like a freakin’ lost pup or something – he didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all. He kind of wanted to sit on the couch and wait for Billy to be ready to leave – or maybe go and dance or something, yeah, that would help maybe. 

Steve winced and scratched at his forehead, frowning at Billy smoking a cigarette like he hadn’t just been sounding like a total 90 year old chainsmoker man a few weeks ago. Steve swallowed the rest of the shitty punch and tossed the cup, opting for an American Colonial beer can out of a cooler they passed. He popped the top and sipped at that instead, trying to relax his shoulders. 

He used to party a lot. He was good at partying. He drank like half the can in a few good, long swallows, then almost choked on the last one as Tommy walked up to them. Steve stared at him, eyes huge, nostrils flared, his shocked look mostly hidden behind his shades. He firmed his jaw and steadied his mouth. 

Tommy grinned at them as he walked up, and he seemed sort of loose – probably been drinking, Steve figured. He had a tie around his head and nothing but a tank top and some boxers on, and he looked a little wasted, but not too bad. Swaying just enough. “My guyyyys! You made it!” He laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Man sweet party, right? The jams are killer.” He did a little air riff on a guitar to the Depeche Mode song that was blaring over the speakers, vibrating the porch. He slapped Steve on the shoulder, almost making him jump – almost dropped his beer. “Sorry about the nose. No hard feelings, right?” 

Steve stared at him. “Yyyyyeah….…” He said, blinking behind his Ray-Ban’s. Trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture. What the fuck was happening?

“And Hargrove, our Keg King.” He gave a little flourished bow, spilling half his drink. “Heard about the shitty stuff happening to you - super fucked up man. You gonna tap a keg for us or what, dude? Gotta shake it off!”

***

Maybe Steve was wrong. Well, not wrong, Steve was never really wrong, Steve was good. Maybe Steve was just mistaken. Alarm bells rang off but Billy ignored them because they were there all the fucking time now. They rang when someone shut a door too loud so clearly he was—what did they call it in English? Unreliable narrator. He smiled to himself for remembering it, hard to pay attention in class when he had to double over in a shitty chair to take notes. 

He patted Steve on the back reassuringly and smiled at Tommy, one that wasn’t as sweet because those were for Steve, and let himself be lead to the keg. Doing a keg stand hurt like a motherfucker, ribs aching in protest, but it was worth the applause after. Worth the hard smack on his back from Tommy. Normal. 

***

Steve stared in absolute amazement at Billy, totally not computing what was happening right now. Tommy’d keyed Billy’s car, he’d spray painted his locker, he’d beat Steve up in the middle of practice – he’d been treating Billy like he had AIDS all week, and one – one ‘yeah that’s fucked up, dude’ and offer for a Keg stand and Billy was SMILING? Patting Steve on the back? 

Steve was even more horrified that he DID it. If Steve had been fidgety and nervous over Billy smoking he almost started screaming when he did the stand – with his ribs, it shouldn’t even be possible – and as they’d walked to do the stand, he’d tried muttering a warning to Billy, but he got blown off just like he’d been being blown off all day. It was seriously starting to piss him off. And something fucking STUNK. Something fucking stunk about this whole thing, and Tommy seemed drunk, but Steve’d seen Tommy drunk a lot – they’d first gotten drunk TOGETHER off of Steve’s dad’s three hundred dollar whiskey, he knew how Tommy acted drunk, and…

But maybe…maybe he was imagining it?

The look Billy had given him had said ‘maybe you were wrong. See? Mistaken. This is fine.’ And maybe Steve was being crazy, because this wasn’t his scene anymore. Friday movie nights were. He had a pack of UNO in his goddamn trunk. Maybe he was just pathetic. Maybe parties really could heal all wounds or some shit, truly evened the playing field like he used to think, instead of being some fester pot of deceit and manipulation and booze and fucking in the upstairs bathroom, or being told you were ‘bullshit’ and…Steve watched Billy nervously until his stand was finished, chewing on a thumbnail. Watching how everyone cheered their Keg King, shouting ‘HARGROVE!’ And that, that seemed normal too. Just like before. Right? 

But then what the fuck had this entire week from hell been? Steve’d said that people would get over it. But honestly it had seemed like Tommy and Carol had been stoking the fucking fire all week, instead of letting the embers cool down to ashes. They’d kept the flame going, it seemed. 

Something was WRONG. No, Steve was being crazy, 

He wanted to go home. 

He should be in the Wheelers basement drinking coke and watching Jeopardy while Dustin worked on his character sheet. 

When Billy finally got away from the keg, Steve slid up next to him. “Hey uh, you okay?” He asked in a low voice, glancing down at his torso, his ribs. “Can we go home now? Something’s wrong, Billy.”

***

“Uh huh, I’m fine. Sting’s a little bit but no big deal,” Billy said, shaking his head in confusion at Steve. “No no, it’s fine. Gotta shake it off, right?”

His answer was met with a hoot to his right and another clap to his back that must’ve been Tommy again. It made him feel smooth and easy all over, somebody thinking he was something again, his friend who wasn’t really a friend. 

“Boys, we’re gonna play spin the bottle, are you in?” Tina said, sidling up in between Steve and Billy, her best pout on her face, lipstick just a little smeared. “C’mon, Billy. We missed playing with you. Please?”

Billy didn’t have to give it any thought at all. Maybe there were no thoughts left in his head now because he was nodding, smiling big and happy when he heard more cheering. Even when Tina put her arm around his waist and squeezed, even when she tugged him inside, ribs aching. Big and happy. 

***

Steve held himself back from tugging on Billy’s jacket like a little kid, asking him to go home again. He followed several steps behind, a lump lodged in his throat, watching how Tina’s arm was twined around Billy’s waist, squeezing too tight – what about his ribs? – and the way Billy let her, and…spin the bottle? So he was gonna kiss all these girls that ‘missed playing with him?’ Steve was gonna throw up. He hadn’t even drank that much – he was the one that was supposed to drive them home, so he needed to keep a clear head. And honestly, after the last time he’d gotten three sheets to the wind at a party, and Billy’d saved him – he just wasn’t so interested in getting blacked out anymore. 

He just wanted to save Billy now and leave, but maybe Billy didn’t need saving.

But Steve had this feeling like he was walking into a horror movie, and it was really bizarre, because he just kind of kept going along with it, his legs marching him along because Billy was in front of him like a carrot tied to a string, and he was a hungry rabbit trying to get to him – a teaming herd of girls between them. All of them touching at Billy, at his devastating clothes, at his perfectly styled hair, at his tender cheeks, tugging at him like an object to be owned. It made something itchy start under Steve’s skin, something hot under his collar, and he wanted to shove them away – he knew he had jealousy issues, and he was trying to be better about it, but one girl was practically gonna hump his leg and – 

“Ooooh, there’s our keg King! Billy, long time no see baby!” Carol chirped as she sashayed towards them from the spot where she’d arranged pillows and stuff in a circle for people to sit on. It was strangely close to the wall. Carol had her hands on her hips, cracking some gum. She winked at him and blew a bright pink bubble, the color of a highlighter – dressed up in a skintight blue sequined dress, turquoise Steve thought it might be – with white tights and her hair was especially huge, teased to be big and bodacious. He could appreciate the hair. “Steven.” She glanced at him with a flat look, the old up and down, like an afterthought. 

Before he knew it, he was being sat down on a pillow several spaces over from Billy. He curled his hands up tight in his lap, sitting cross-legged, every muscle tense. He didn’t want to kiss anybody else but Billy. His eyes flitted nervously around the circle. Why had Billy agreed? Did he want to kiss those girls? Steve was so gonna throw up his beer and gross punch all over the floor at that.

It was weird because he didn’t see Tommy in the circle. He glanced around, but no Tommy to be found. Usually he was all over spin the bottle to see if he could get a smooch with Carol. Maybe he was grabbing more booze. 

***

Billy felt so good, he felt perfect. More people filed in but they didn’t ask Billy to move or scoot or anything, had him perfectly placed like it was his spot, just like when he used to play before. Kissing people was something he could do on command, even if it made his guts feel weird he knew it would get more applause, more people touching him. Nowadays there wasn’t anyone he wanted to kiss more than Steve, probably never would be, so the rules had to change. 

The first time the bottle landed on Billy it was Tina, her eyes sharp, more shrewd than he would’ve given her credit for during a party. When they both leaned in he bypassed that lipstick smeared mouth and kissed just next to the corner of it instead, a shit eating grin on his face. 

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Tina pouted, looking at Carol for a moment before straightening back up. “Alright baby, you spin.”

Billy spun this time and it nearly, nearly landed on Steve. In fact if it was only an inch more to the left it would’ve been on him and Billy could swear he heard sounds of disappointment, someone elbowing somebody. He looked at Steve and shrugged goodnaturedly, let some girl—Amy?—kiss him but didn’t return it. Seemed good enough for her though, good enough for her to feign swooning. 

***

Steve watched Billy (sort of) kiss Tina – and then actually kiss Amy – not real kisses, he knew that, but he could feel his heartbeat in his throat, and like, every inch of his skin on his body, and he couldn’t tear those sedate, burning eyes off of Billy – watching him with the ferocity of a red-tailed hawk, just couldn’t fucking help it. When Billy finally went to sit back down for Amy to spin, Steve finally tore his eyes away – and caught a few people in the circle – and even some people that were standing in the background, watching him. Watching Steve. As if gauging his reaction. He swallowed and flushed and looked at the floor, feeling seen, caught out somehow. Heartbeat thudding in his throat. 

He wanted to go home so bad he was almost crawling out of his skin being here, sitting on this stupid pillow. Where the fuck was Tommy.

He shifted on the cushion, and watched with a more reserved look on his face – trying to hide his emotions, which was difficult (he’d been told he wore his heart on his sleeve many times,) – as Amy spun the bottle. It landed on Greg, and she blushed all prettily as he stumbled to his feet – this blonde jock on the football team, Steve knew him, and he was alright – and they did this little peck that quickly morphed into a little more of a makeout session until somebody yelled ‘get a room!’ 

Then Greg spun, landed on Carol. She got her hands onto the carpet and crawled into the circle towards him, and they pressed a long kiss together, but Carol kept it PG – no tongue – and Steve knew she’d save it for Tommy. Once she got it spinning, she seemed to give it a special twist. And it landed right on Steve. Steve froze, staring at Carol. His mouth locked up, jaw too. She had this little smile on her face, those bright eyes coy as Steve felt true dread in his veins before he crept forward towards her. She still had that look on her face. Like she knew a secret he didn’t know. 

Steve didn’t look at Billy when he got closer to her, and she smelled overwhelmingly like Obsession perfume. Acrid in his nose.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Stevie.” She whispered to him, and stuck her mouth on his. He hadn’t talked to Carol in over a year until this – well, her talking to him, anyway. 

Steve made a ‘gack!’ sound and spit out her gum on the carpet as she pulled away, positively cackling in delight. Everybody else fuckin’ laughed too, and Steve’s ears burned. He was going to murder Billy for agreeing to this. He’d decided. He was feeling murderous. Truly. How had he once enjoyed this game? Thought it was funny? How?

***

Billy grimaced as he watched Steve spit, watched the look on his face morph into more discomfort. The eyes on him made it hard to do much, his own searching Steve’s before everyone was cheering Steve on to spin. He looked reluctant as he did it and Billy wanted to move forward, say are you okay or I feel kinda weird, but he didn’t get the chance. 

As the bottle spun, the jock next to him bumped into his shoulder, Carol surging forward to steady him. There was a flurry of action, loud fussing and words like oh man party foul before everyone suddenly returned to their spots. When the commotion had died down he looked and—the bottle had landed on him. His emotions felt peeled right open and he nearly smiled, warmth all over him at the prospect of what was to come, even if some hesitance was there. 

“Go on boys!” Tina cried, clapping her hands together like she usually did when two guys landed on each other. 

He was tipsier than he’d been in, well, a while. He couldn’t find any reasons not to do it, crawled forward even though Steve barely moved. Maybe it could be normal, they could kiss in front of everyone just this one time because it was just the game. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d kissed a guy during this and nobody batted an eye then. Just the game, just normal like he wanted. 

When he leaned forward his eyes fell closed against his better judgement, though the second their lips met they snapped right back open at—

Flash. 

Billy sat back quickly, or maybe he just thought he moved quickly, looking around for the source. Tommy was standing above the circle and he had a—

Camera. A Polaroid camera. His stomach did drop out then, hurt and confusion playing out across his face. He waited again, waited for all of the anger to surface, the urge to smash the camera to pieces. It never came, just another flash, another picture. 

One of his face. 

***

Steve froze the second the bottle landed on Billy – Billy, who looked all soft around the edges with drink, and the alarms were going off in his head and he just sat there like an IDIOT - rigid, in the center of the circle with the bottle before him, watching in something like anxiety as Billy crawled towards him – his brain told him that guys (or girls) landed on each other all the time – people just got a kick out of humiliating them and moving on, but what were the odds that when he’d looked back at the bottle from Billy being jostled around that it would have LANDED on him?

He thought, for a brief second it might be fine – they’d kissed a million times before, but after this entire week at school, the thought of kissing Billy in front of all of these fucking assholes made his stomach drop and he didn’t want it, not here, not with those eyes on them – too judgy – and then the second their mouths met, Steve’s eyes still wide open – he watched Billy’s own slide closed – the kiss felt like cardboard - there was a movement out of the corner of Steve’s eye, and then a bright flash. 

He flinched and pulled back, and he was sober enough to know what it had been, he didn’t need to look, but he did – and it was Tommy. With a polaroid. And he didn’t look drunk at all. He had that same, cruel smile on his face he’d had when he’d shoved Steve up against the BMW right after Steve’d called them a couple of assholes – said Steve wouldn’t want to fight him. Steve just stared up at him in this sort of cold shock, face blank. There was another flash.

“Guess we got a couple of queers at my party!” Tina called. Some people actually booed. “Looks like maybe they need some more alone time!” 

There were a few other exclamations of ‘fags!’ and ‘gross,’ ‘oh my god they are gay!’ 

Steve reached forward to snatch at Billy – sweet, soft, drunk Billy – to get them the fuck out of there, but then someone was grabbing onto his back, onto his upper arms, and the same with Billy, yanking them to their feet. Steve fought against those grabby hands, gasping “Let us go!” The closet was right there – Steve’d thought it was weird, the setup being so close to the wall, usually it was in the middle of the living room and they shoved the sofa out of the way. 

“How about seven minutes?!” Carol laughed back at Tina, her eyes bright and wicked and her mouth curled up into an almost manic grin. “But I’m not sure it’s in heaven.” Somebody got the closet door open. “Call us assholes now, Stevie!” Carol’s voice followed Steve.

He struggled against the arms holding him before he felt a solid shove at his back as they were both pushed into the closet. The door slammed shut behind them, and there was the sound of a chair being pushed against it - laughter beyond that. When Steve tried the handle, the door didn’t budge, just rattled on the hinges. 

“Let us out! You want me to call you an asshole, Carol, I’ll say it to your face!” Steve yelled at the door. He realized he was trembling all over. He couldn’t stop shaking, adrenaline surging through him. Coats hanging from the rack hit at his back before he gave the door a kick. No luck. 

Apparently Carol had had a surprise for him alright, and it wasn’t her fucking gum.

***

“Looks like Hargrove decided to go back into the closet!” Tina shrieked, howling with laughter on the other side of the door. The sound doubled, tripled, until the laughter seemed to carry everywhere, through the house as people broke off to different parts of the party. 

Billy watched Steve yell and kick at the door. He watched himself cease to join in. 

He backed into the corner of the closet and sank down to the floor as a terrible, cold feeling settled over him. Like taking an ice bath after a tough game or after a run in with—

Fags! Gross! 

He could hear someone, probably Carol, pretending to retch before cackling, her voice slowly fading like she was moving away. He was fucking flipping out and he knew it but he couldn’t stop it, no anger to dull the feeling. His arms were hanging off of his bent knees and they were shuddering, all of him was shuddering. He was watching Steve and he was shaking and he couldn’t fucking breathe. 

***

“Fuck you guys!” Steve yelled at the door again, punching it, not even wincing because he couldn’t feel it in his knuckles as he paced the like, two steps in the closet, back and forth a few times. Breathing fast and blinking hard, the rattle of their laughter in his bones like some horrible wave that just kept rising in volume. And Steve didn’t even care about that stuff anymore, but. 

“Open up the goddamn door! Tommy! You prick!” Steve hit the door again for good measure. He got his hands pushed up into his hair, took his fucking Ray-ban’s off, and hooked them in the front of his sweater because he needed to rub at his eyes. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I fucking knew it. I fucking knew it.” Steve huffed under his breath, still pacing like a caged creature, but there were only two steps to take, two to the left, two to the right, repeat. Where the fuck was Billy? Steve turned on his heel, glancing back at the coats. Was Billy under the coats? 

“Billy!” He hissed. “Where – oh,“ Steve ducked his head under some of the coattails to try and get a look at Billy, who looked like he was freaking the fuck out. Shaking worse than Steve, knees drawn up. Soft inner Steve would have tucked around him and tried to soothe him down from the edge. But they were locked in a closet, and he was pissed, and Billy’d been blowing him off since LUNCH.

“Shit.” Steve breathed through his nose, or at least tried, it was still swollen. Bruised all black and blue. He couldn’t...couldn’t believe they’d done this. Set them up. “Those bastards.” it was more to himself than anything. 

“Shit.” He said again, sinking to the floor against the opposite wall from Billy - hooking his elbows around his knees and burying his face in his hands. 

He just felt like he, he couldn’t talk, he didn’t want to be talked to, and he couldn’t offer comfort right now when he felt so close to losing it - when he’d been trying to avoid this party all freakin’ day and Billy hadn’t listened. Well now Steve was gonna shut up.

***

Billy felt a whole bucket of guilt dump itself right over his head, thicker and more stifling than tar. He looked through the coats at Steve; the long slouch of his spine, his favorite hands covering his favorite face, all of the exasperation there. It was his fault and he knew it. He’d pushed too much, been naive for—Jesus, maybe the first time in his whole fucking life. Pushed and pushed and pushed the idea of nothing being different until it showed itself to be the furthest thing from the truth. 

He opened his mouth to apologize but the tension radiating off of Steve was fucking nuclear so he closed it just as quick, pressing himself hard into the corner until only his boots were visible. He remembered telling Steve about them that first night they spent together, how they were his favorite pair. It didn’t seem to matter now. 

Now he had a hard time not thinking about doing this exact same thing as a kid, how fucking good he’d been at it. Hiding while Neil screamed and tore the place apart, not laughing like the people who were walking away from the closet but that wasn’t friendly either. He spiraled into his head again, got lost trudging through sour memories, eyes squeezed shut. 

***

They were seriously gonna do it, they were just gonna leave them in here overnight, probably until they started to rot – seven minutes his ass! Steve stayed crouched like that against the wall, one hand over his eyes, the other arm curled up around his middle, and he didn’t talk. Didn’t feel like talking. He just wanted to get out of here. He wanted to go home, and whether that was his own house or Hop’s trailer, he didn’t really care – just not HERE. 

He couldn’t believe there wasn’t a single person in this house on their side that would let them out. He checked his watch every so often, biting his tongue to not say shit because he didn’t think it would be very nice, and Billy was already cowering in the corner. Steve didn’t need to make it worse. He was bubbling with ‘I told you sos’ and ‘see?’ (he was trying NOT to be an asshole) and it wasn’t even fucking fair, because a week ago Steve’d told Billy, pinky promised him, that it was gonna be fine, that was gonna blow over, but he’d forgotten what a fucking bitch Carol was apparently – he knew she’d arranged it, was probably easy for her to push Tommy into it. She’d gotten her little revenge trip, apparently. They’d gotten their kicks. 

He couldn’t believe they’d been sitting in silence for an hour, the thump of the bass under their asses within the floorboards, and he kind of wanted to just shove his face into a coat and strangle himself where they brushed over the top of his hair. Steve was just sitting there pouting and being a little bitch, he knew, but...

The door swung open, accompanied by the scrape of a chair over the floorboards. Steve blinked up at it with a startled owl look. It was…

“Jonathan?” Steve breathed. “What – what’re you – “

Jonathan didn’t do parties. He stayed at home and listened to Talking Heads and probably jacked off to Nancy, he didn’t – DO parties – 

“Hey,” Jonathan said in that quiet voice of his, glancing over his shoulder surreptitiously. “Sorry guys, I came as soon as I heard – c’mon, let’s get you outta here before they notice. Let’s go, hurry.” He jerked his head toward the exit, taking a step away from the closet to give them room to exit. Shoving his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching around his ears and looking around like a nervous bird. 

Steve stood so fast it made him dizzy.

***

Billy sort of—lost his concept of time. It was easy with such a thick silence between them, easy to get caught up in his head. He kept hearing the same words Neil had used, kept seeing that smug face and expressions not much different than that on Tommy, on Carol and Tina. People he talked to every day for over half a year. It took nothing for them to disappear. 

When the door swung open he flinched, just a tiny bit of movement as he tucked himself further into the corner. He could hear Steve say something, just a few words, more than they’d exchanged in an hour. He wasn’t talking to him though, couldn’t be. 

Billy watched his hands shake and waited, thought about how long hands could shake for, if he could top an hour. 

***

“Hey – he’s coming, right?” Jonathan asked, looking anxious to go.

Steve blinked, mouth forming this pursed line as he ducked back under the coats. He knew he hadn’t been talking to Billy – not like Billy’d said anything to him either, but. He hoped Billy just understood that Steve’d really needed to be quiet, because he didn’t want to take any shit out on Billy – he wasn’t angry with Billy (well okay maybe a little because of IGNORING Steve) but he was truly angry with the sons of bitches at this stupid, fucking party. Not Billy. Not really. 

“Jonathan’s here.” Steve said quietly, trying to meet Billy’s eyes. Noting his shaking hands. “Let’s go – we’re going home, okay? Fuck these people. C’mon.” 

Steve carefully eased his hand into one of Billy’s trembling ones, clasping it tight, and made to draw him out from under the coat rack. He was pulling Billy out of his hiding place, and turning around – hand still held tight behind him, like he was leading Billy by their linked fingers – and followed after Jonathan, who made a prompt bee line for the door.

Steve was hot on his heels, dragging Billy along behind him like Steve was the tugboat and Billy the ocean liner – when people glanced at them passing – some putting their hands over their mouths, some just watching with wide eyes, some looking horrified, some looking guilty, Steve flipped them off and kept fucking going, keeping his eyes set forward on the back of Jonathan’s hunched shoulders until they were out of Tina’s stupid hell house and away from the people he’d mostly known since he’d practically been born. Head held up high, jaw locked, totally over their bullshit.

***

Billy didn’t look up, didn’t look anywhere other than Steve’s hand holding tight to his own. Humiliation made his face burn so hot it was like his skin was melting off, like all of his efforts getting ready were sliding right off of his face. Suddenly he wished his shirt was done up all the way, for once wishing that no one on the face of the planet could see him. 

He felt sick, his stomach sour and twisting with the guilt still present. He was so stupid, so fucking stupid. Why had they come here? Steve didn’t want to go, he kept telling him that he didn’t want to. He told him something was wrong and Billy didn’t listen—you never do listen and—

They reached the Camaro in time for Billy to narrowly miss puking on his boots, his hand slipping out of Steve’s to slap against the side of the car for purchase. It felt like his stomach was turning inside out, like the emotions had nowhere to go but right out. 

***

Steve stood by the Camaro, idly rubbing the back of Billy’s jacket, the other hand sweeping his hair back to hold it at the back of his neck – keeping it out of range of his mouth and vomit. He felt like he had a permanent frown on his face – like he knew Billy was freaking out, and he knew how important his social status was to him, and that had been a huge shit show. They were finally far enough away, the Camaro parked down the block, that it was just them and Jonathan – his beater car parked a few spaces up. 

“Are you guys okay?” Jonathan asked in that whispy voice, staring at them with large eyes, hands in his pockets.

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” Steve made a face down at the ground. He kept rubbing Billy’s back as he upchucked everything into the dead, spring grass. “How did you…?”

Jonathan shrugged a little, shuffling his feet like he was almost embarrassed at being asked. “I dunno. I just heard about it – I tried to get here as fast as I could, but – some girls were talking about it outside the Fotomat, but I was working, so…”

Steve made a grunting sound of confirmation. Getting a better hold in Billy’s hair to distract himself. 

“So – you guys…are?” Jonathan asked, super articulate.

Steve’s frown dug further into his cheeks and he just kind of looked at Jonathan for a minute, not saying anything, eyes burning brown in the dark. 

Jonathan made an ‘ah’ sound. “Okay. Nancy didn’t believe that…you’d...”

“I don’t care what Nancy believes.” Steve snapped.

Jonathan looked like a deer in headlights. Steve’s shoulders tried to ease.

“S….sorry. Jonathan, thanks. Thanks man.” Steve swallowed, throat clicking, his fingers still against the back of Billy’s neck. “Seriously. Thank you. I owe you.” 

***

Billy stayed hunched over when he was done, savoring the feeling of Steve’s hands even though Steve still wasn’t really talking to him. He deserved as much, he deserved more and he knew it. They could’ve been hanging out with the kids tonight, pretending to be bored out of their skulls but actually having a nice time. He could’ve been sitting squished up against Steve on a couch somewhere, not just finishing puking—more from stress than booze. 

“Thanks,” he rasped, freezing up a bit. His voice sounded just like it did when—

He dug shakily around his jacket for the keys and unlocked the passenger door before gingerly handing them to Steve. He didn’t look at Jonathan or say anything else and he kind of felt bad for that too but he just couldn’t take it. Instead he slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, eyes squeezed shut and hands just not fucking working right as he tried to blindly buckle himself in. 

***

“Yeah um. You’re welcome, but - it’s not a big deal. It was shitty , that they did that to you...” Jonathan said, blushing and rubbing the back of his neck.

Steve leaned in after Billy, helping to ease him into the seat, and with deft fingers captured the belt from his clumsy fingers – buckling it in, and gently touched Billy’s cheek before he pulled out of the car. Something within his chest wound up tight hearing Billy’s voice like that again - if he’d messed up his throat again, drinking, vomiting...everything….Steve couldn’t forgive himself. “Gonna make you some hot tea at the house, okay?”

He rapped his knuckles on top of the camaro – realized just now that they were bruised from punching the stupid door. Stupid. He closed the door quietly behind Billy, and slapped Jonathan on the shoulder, making him jump like a startled rabbit. 

“Thanks again. Look I’ll see you later, yeah? You’re a lifesaver. Honestly.” He took the keys that he’d saved from Billy as he looped around to the other side of the Camaro, feeling Jonathan’s eyes burrowing into the side of his head. 

“Be careful on your way home. I’m still picking the kids up, so, if you need me – just radio me.” Jonathan called, waving a little. 

Steve nodded back at him and slid into the drivers side. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands for a minute, closing his eyes and trying to get his bearings, before he twisted on the ignition. Felt the engine rumble loudly to life. It felt too loud, too much, after being locked in a small, quiet space for sixty minutes. Steve sat like that for a minute, eyes closed, trying to pull himself together before he got them on the road. 

“If you need to throw up, again – just let me know and I’ll pull over.” He said in a low voice, twisting his hands around the vinyl of the wheel. 

***

Billy sunk further into his seat, this time in something a little more like relief. Steve’s hand on his cheek was some kind of balm, the humiliation fading just a bit, just enough for him to curl up against the passenger door, temple pressed to the window. He shook his head minutely at Steve’s words, wringing his hands in his lap. 

“I’m—Steve—I’m sorry,” he said quietly, eyes shooting to the side to see Steve with his closer. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you, we should’ve just—UNO. I should’ve listened.”

***

Steve’s eyes slid open as he shifted gears, getting them out of park, and dropping the brake. He pulled out into the sleepy Hawkins road – their faces lit up by the glow of the dash. He pushed the radio off, which felt weird in Billy’s car. 

He glanced over at Billy in surprise as they drove – he Billy wasn’t exactly a ‘say sorry’ kind of person. Really ever. Steve blinked and got his eyes back on the road, gripping the wheel one handed and brushing his hand through his hair like a nervous tic. 

“It’s….” Steve started, swallowed, blinked again, like he could stall. He couldn’t say ‘It’s okay’.’ He didn’t want to talk about this. He hadn’t wanted to talk about this since the second that flash went off. He seriously needed the night to hit a few ‘reset’ buttons, and in the dark of the spring night, in the hush of the Camaro interior, with only the rumble of the engine – everything felt too close, too real. He didn’t want to fight. He felt like if he started talking he was gonna gear himself up to fight. He didn’t want to. He wasn’t upset at Billy. He wasn’t. (mostly.) He gestured wildly with one hand.

“I just – I don’t know why you didn’t listen to me.” Steve’s face broke a little, trying to focus on the road. “I’m not an idiot. I – I know that you were excited, for things to be normal, that you always rule the crowd at a party like that, but this week…this week…” Steve shook his head a little. “It’s Tommy. And Carol. They’re – I think it’s to get revenge on me, me ditching them. At least it’s a part of it – that’s mostly Carol. And Tommy – Tommy’s just being a jealous little bitch.” Steve was quiet for a long time. “I’ve known those people my entire life, Billy. My whole life. I can’t…I can’t believe…” 

He swallowed hard, head swimming, clenching the steering wheel one handed - hard enough that it kind of hurt. 

***

Billy got a sudden memory, some sort of deja vu that made his blood run cold. It was him. If he’d just listened—honestly, if he just hadn’t been there, everything would be fine. None of this would’ve happened to Steve, not even a sliver of it. If he’d just left Steve alone, just restrained himself from kissing him that first time, if he’d just spared Steve the burden of having someone like him love him. Born wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, wanted to say it a million times over but just stuck to one more time. 

His eyes burned and his face was getting hot again and his chin, his stupid fucking chin. He swallowed and clenched his jaw to make it stop, leaned against the door with his arm, tried to hide the swipe of his hand under his eyes.

***

Steve waved a hand vaguely at Billy before reaching over, blindly searching in the passenger seat for his own hand – searching it out to hold it, one seat over.

“It’s…I don’t really wanna talk about it. But – you don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault they decided to be shitty people. Nothing about this is your fault, just – just please, listen to me if I tell you I don’t want to do something? If I don’t think something’s a hot idea. Literally anything else would have been better. We could’ve gone to the dentist and dentists scare me.”

He glanced at Billy with a small smile behind his eyes, flicking up one corner of his mouth – trying to ease the atmosphere. Try to make him laugh a little, or even crack a smile maybe. He rubbed a thumb along the side of Billy’s hand, ran his fingertips along the lines of Billy’s blunt fingers - even as Billy wiped at his eyes with the other hand. 

“If you really miss the keg stands that much, we can always set one up to tap in the backyard and you can just go nuts.” He lifted that hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles as they drove.

***

Billy let out a wet laugh, one caught between a sob and real laughter. It was about all he could do in the face of Steve, the kind kiss on his hand. That and nodding, nodding in agreement because he’d fucked up and he was still reeling from the closet and the flash going off in his face. Whatever might come once Monday rolled around settled over him like a stormcloud, one he tried to ignore in favor of Steve. 

When they pulled into the trailer he barely let a second pass after he got out of the Camaro, searching for Steve’s hand and finding it, using it to tug them inside. Susan was sitting in her ridiculous floral chair—courtesy of Hopper—and had a salad halfway to her mouth when she saw the boys’ faces. 

“Billy, are you,” she started, then seemed to think better of it, leaned over in her chair and patted the couch cushions. “You wanna take a seat for a minute?”

Billy shook his head. Steve didn’t want to talk about it and neither did he. He didn’t know what he’d say anything. I got what was coming to me, Susan. Neil’s not even here anymore but tonight it didn’t feel any different than before. He couldn’t say that to her, he couldn’t put that on her. 

“I just—I’m gonna lay down.”

***

Steve gave a little half wave to Susan – he felt…exhausted, and he felt even more exhausted in another person’s company, and he seriously didn’t want to talk. He wanted to take a burning hot shower, hot enough to boil himself like a fucking lobster, then collapse into bed and never move again. 

He tagged along after Billy to the back room – lowering himself onto the side of Billy’s bed, bracing both elbows on his knees and lowering his face back into his hands – just like in the closet. He couldn’t believe they’d been locked in a closet for an hour. Tina’s shriek of ‘going back in the closet!’ made his blood run cold. 

“….if you wanna lay down, I….I really need to – take a shower.” Steve said. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Billy’s clothed shoulder before he shrugged out of his blue sweater. He tossed it on the floor, not commenting on the fact that he’d taken a shower before the party – they both knew he had. “Graduation is in two weeks.” He said after a moment, unbuttoning his jeans. “Then we never have to see any of those jackasses again.”

***

Billy nodded wearily, hands reaching out for the blankets and pulling them over his shoulders. He twisted in them for a second until he was laying on his side facing the open bedroom door. All of his clothes were still on, even his boots, but everything was covered except for his face. He wanted to just...sleep. Sleep until graduation. Sleep until he was older. 

He watched Steve walk out from the corner of his vision, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall across from the bed, getting lost in the lines of the wood paneling. He lost some time again, heard the front door open and the chatter of Max and Susan in the living room. The idea of anyone speaking to him had him moving down further into the blankets, hiding his hands and arms tight against his chest in some sort of makeshift hug. Like it would make anything feel better. 

Max came in at some point, Steve still gone, and turned the lights on. Billy hadn’t even noticed they were off, but he did notice when she set two sandwiches down on a plate on the bedside table. Her little hand moved over his eyes and the bridge of his nose like she was getting something off but she didn’t say anything so he didn’t either. Just kept trying to memorize the lines on the wall, that repeating pattern in front of him, over and over and over again. 

***

Steve came out of the shower, a towel around his bare shoulders and a pair of loose sweats slung over his hips. He was tiredly rubbing at damp hair, which smelled like four puffs of Farrah Fawcette Hairspray, and Faberge Organics – a little fruity, it was nice. He paused at the threshold, gaze flicking over Max and Billy on the bed. He sighed and padded over the thin, threadbare carpeting and tugged Billy’s boots off, unbuckling them to line them up at the foot of the bed. 

“It’s alright, Max. We just had a rough night.” Steve said when she gave him a skeptical look. 

“Well why does he look like a zombie? What’d you guys do?”

“Nothing. We didn’t do anything.” Steve lied. He went to the drawers to pull out a fresh pair of sweats and a band tee with the sleeves ripped off - Metallica.

“Did you do something to him?” She asked him, suspicion heavy in her tone. Masking her worry.

“No, I didn’t do anything to him.” Steve huffed. “We’re just tired. We’re going to bed.”

“Usually Billy’s not home until like 3 am on a party night, and it’s like – 8.” Max sniffed.

“He’s like right there.” Steve rolled his eye gesturing to the bed, setting the folded up clothes alongside Billy’s burrito knee for the other boy, and carrying a box of makeup wipes. “Why are you telling me like he’s in freakin’ Tibet, shithead?” 

“Because look - he’s totally zonked!” She snapped her fingers in front of Billy’s face. 

***

Billy didn’t flinch and maybe he should’ve been proud he didn’t swat at Max either. He glanced quickly at the makeup wipes and then away, burrowing deeper into the blankets and curling up so hard it hurt, only the top of his head showing. He didn’t want to change or move or leave the blankets, didn’t want Max to snap in his face again. 

Rough night didn’t even begin to cover it. It was like his brain was just deciding to fucking shut down, like everything was too much for him to touch with a ten foot pole. There was too much going on for him to stare at the wall so he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers clenching around his sides in that lackluster hug. 

***

“You’re freaking him out – “

“No you’re freaking him out – “

“Just let him rest – “

“No tell me what happened!”

“Nothing – seriously – he obviously needs to get some sleep, Max, just – “

“Don’t treat me like I’m five I can handle it. Tell me. Billy’s never like this, but after – well – “

“Look, I – I don’t know why – I’m not doing this. I’m not arguing with you. Thanks for the sandwiches but seriously, out.”

Steve guided Max out of the room even as she started blowing steam out her ears. He clicked the door shut behind her, and leaned on it for maximum effect. He sighed and studied the rolled up version of Billy on the bed. He looked like a fat blue caterpillar, curling up when some kid poked at it on the summer sidewalk. He wondered if Billy’d given some thought to meeting with his Aunt.

He flicked the overhead light off, then wandered to the bed in the dark - turning on the bedside lamp instead with a ‘click.’ 

“Billy?”

***

Billy poked his head out an inch or two more at the sound of Steve sighing, eyes landing on the shirt hanging around Steve’s neck. He looked tired, beyond tired. It made his own face break into a million little pieces for just a second before he settled his gaze on the wall again, sighing in kind. 

“Keep my stuff on,” he said, voice muffled by the blankets, eyebrows arched sadly, the only thing really expressive about him at the moment. “Keep the makeup on. Not taking it off. Don’t have to stay. If you don’t want.”

***

Steve felt absolutely bone weary – he hadn’t been sleeping really, and today was the fucking cherry on top. He eased toward the bed, hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows. 

“You’re gonna sleep in your stuff. And your makeup. No – uh-uh. Not happening. C’mon, baby. I’ll help you, okay?” He reached into the burrito of blanket to start unfolding it, unwrapping Billy like how a baby was swaddled – in reverse. “You don’t gotta do anything. I’ll do everything, yeah?” He said softly. “Just sit up for me, sweetheart, know you can do it.” 

He looped his hands under Billy’s underarms to gently draw him up into a sitting position, grunting a little at the dead weight. 

***

Billy knew he should probably feel something, be embarrassed or even pissy, defensive. Instead he just sniffed harshly, distantly aware he’d started crying. It wasn’t like usual though, this was different. Just a slow, steady stream of tears and him sitting there slumped over with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed, crying like a little bitch stood up at homecoming. Absolute fucking crocodile tears, the kind that sounded tired, like a little kid who refused to go to bed. 

He let Steve peel his jacket and his jeans off and felt bad for barely noticing it happening, face screwed up and nose red and the tears just wouldn’t fucking stop. He was a laughing stock at school now, hadn’t been anything but top fucking dog since he was little and even then—that wasn’t this. It wasn’t getting called Neil’s favorite expletives or getting shoved into a closet. It wasn’t getting his locker sprayed or his favorite fucking thing in the world keyed to shreds. It wasn’t this. 

***

Steve’s heart broke a little more – he realized, abruptly, that his heart had been breaking for several days, for a few weeks now. It had been a slow process, related to the steady decline he’d seen in Billy Hargrove. Fracturing every time Billy slid a little further into a dark pit that Steve couldn’t see, or truly understand. And it just broke a little more as Billy started to cry, almost silently – shoulders shaking. Steve was meticulous, careful and slow as he peeled the clothes from Billy’s body, getting his arms up to slide off his jacket first, pulling one pant leg down, then the other. 

Replacing unforgiving denim with soft cotton and his jacket and half unbuttoned shirt with one of his favorite, sleeveless band tees. He used tissues to wipe away Billy’s tears, along with his thumbs, and a few stray kisses on cheeks - then makeup wipes to glide away the leftover makeup that he hadn’t sweated off earlier. He brushed through Billy’s curls with a brush and his fingers both, and got him settled back onto the bed, tucking him in properly beneath the blankets - no more burrito. Flicking the light back out, sandwiches abandoned, forgotten. He tugged his own shirt on before he curled into bed behind Billy, spooning him properly as the big spoon– he left the radio on on the alarm clock by the bed, set really low to 99.1 which was all cozy hits like Phil Collins.

“Things will seem better in the morning. Two more weeks. That’s it. Then we’re done.” Steve said against the back of Billy’s neck, into curls that smelled of hairspray – which Steve had brushed most of the hold out of.  
“Good night. Love you…” He didn’t really expect a response though. Not tonight. 

***

He was on his back, cold tile digging into his shoulder blades. Steve was on his back too, just a few feet away. There was blood running down his face and his nose looked like a jigsaw puzzle and someone was holding him down. It was Carol, Carol was making Steve watch and he wasn’t the only one. Everyone from school was there, crowding around him and booing, pretending to gag. Pointing. 

Neil was on top of him and his ribs felt wrong, like a bag of broken glass digging into his lungs. Something was bleeding, some internal bleeding a nurse said. He was screaming down at Billy but it just sounded like radio static, deafening and foreboding and violent like the hands around his neck. They were squeezing, both of them, squeezing as hard as he knew his father was capable of and—

Flash. 

He was screaming as hard as he could, begging for help, begging for someone to come help him. No one was coming because this was humane, Neil was putting him out of his misery. Tommy stood over him not even a foot away, Polaroid camera in his hands, grinning behind it as he took another picture. This one was of him screaming but he was rasping now and nobody could hear him. No one could hear him and no one wanted to help and he was dead. 

He was dead and no one was bringing him back and Neil was happy. 

***

Steve almost fell off the bed as the screaming started – screaming, just primal, empty screaming – the kind that meant you were DYING the kind that meant you were being murdered horrendously – not play screaming or screaming for joy – screaming like death. Then it was screaming and begging, begging for help – until Billy’s voice suddenly broke and started in a rasp again. Probably already fucked from vomiting earlier. 

Steve’d forgotten to make him the tea, he thought irrationally, before he was fumbling at Billy’s shoulder, searching for the light switch – flicking it on. Billy looked like he was having some kind of seizure in the bed, roiling there in the blankets, thrashing, limbs locked tight. Steve gently grasped at Billy’s shoulders, with a firm but kind grip, hovering over him as he tried to shake him awake.

“Billy! Billy, wake up! It’s a dream! Billy! Billy?” 

***

Billy’s eyes snapped open but he still wasn’t awake, he couldn’t be because Neil was in jail. Neil was in jail but he wasn’t, he was right there above him and holding him down and he was really going to do it this time. He’d gotten out and he was going to finish it. 

Someone was in the doorway, two people were in the doorway watching. He couldn’t see them suddenly, his vision white with terror. The hands on his shoulders were going to move for his neck, Neil was just taking a breather. 

“Please don’t kill me, please,” he begged, gasping for air, screaming and crying hard enough to hurt his own ears. The smaller figure in the doorway seemed to shrink and it was too much, he didn’t want to die so he said it over and over—

His hands shot out to get Neil’s hands off of his shoulders, slippery with sweat but frantic. He swung out but didn’t make contact, tried to kick his way out of the bed but he was too tangled. He was going to die and Steve wasn’t there, he wasn’t going to get to tell Steve he loved him. 

***

Steve stared down at Billy, flabbergasted – he wasn’t gonna kill him – but he knew Billy was still dreaming, though his eyes were open. They seemed unseeing, disoriented blue, not actually focused. Steve squinted, wincing at how hard Billy was screaming – begging – so shrill it seemed to split his eardrums. 

“Billy – Billy it’s me – you’re dreaming – it’s Steve, wake up, wake up – “ Steve was saying, but then Billy was scrabbling at his wrists – Steve immediately let go of his shoulders, holding his hands up in a defenseless position, and then Billy was swinging out at him – he missed as Steve jerked his head back in a graceless motion, blinking wildly before the terrified blonde almost tumbled out of the bed, twisting in the sheets. 

Steve was leaning back onto his knees on the mattress, hunching over to try and make himself seem smaller – hands still held out, palms up. He glanced over at Susan and Max in the doorway, seeming totally confused, lost, his brunette locks sticking up in a wild mess around his head before he got his eyes back on Billy. 

***

Maybe Billy could outsmart Neil, maybe now that he was further away he could do something. He could hit him with the lamp and he’d be able to run, at least get out into the yard and keep screaming until someone heard. He blindly reached to his right and—

There was nothing there. He spared a quick glance that got longer when he realized the bedside table was moved away along with the lamp on top of it, that the woman in the doorway had just moved it—

Susan. The woman was Susan, his stepmom. She wasn’t booing or pointing at him, she was just waiting up against the wall, her mouth a tense but patient line. The figure behind her, still sort of cowering in the doorway—that was Max. 

His head whipped back to the person in front of him, catching on the way the blankets were twisted all around his legs and the way his shirt was soaked in sweat before they reached their destination. Steve. His sweet Steve, looking confused and scared, big hands held out passively, nonthreatening. 

He could’ve hurt him, he was about to hurt him. 

“Steve?” he asked, his voice small, still scared of whatever was lurking in the room. Maybe it was him. 

***

Steve stared back at Billy with a cautious look on his face – thinking about how Billy had been probably about to brain him with that lamp. He wondered how Susan had known to move it – preemptively – how had she known what Billy was about to do? As Billy’s eyes wheeled wildly around the room, taking in Susan, Max, the lamp, the bedding…then eventually…Steve – they seemed a hair clearer. Like things were actually starting to come into focus for him, not the black nightmare world he’d been trapped in. 

“….Billy?” Steve asked, voice slow. Careful. Unsure. Then he nodded, brown cockatoo crest of hair bouncing with the movement. “Yeah. Yeah it’s me. It’s Steve,” he encouraged Billy, but in a voice like talking to a dangerous, cornered animal in a cage. One that he just wanted to give a hug, but thought he might get bit if he got too close.

Max was behind her mom – more like a child than a teenager – hanging onto the back of her mom’s robe and peeking out from beneath her right arm, wary eyes glued to Billy. 

***

“I was—I—I”

In the end it all seemed to come out in a flood. Billy took one second to see the fear on his family’s faces, on Steve’s, and then it wouldn’t stop. 

“Everyone from school was there, at the mall. They were all—booing at me, like in the closet, while Neil—killed me. I kept begging them to help me and I tried to get help this time and nobody came—“

His voice was raspy again and he wasn’t dreaming anymore, his throat sore. He felt like he had to keep talking, had to put his shaky hands out too, to get everyone to stop being afraid of him. 

“Tommy was taking pictures while Neil had his hands on my neck and he was just squeezing down and he looked so happy that day. I’ve never seen him so happy, like it was the one good thing I’d ever do. Like the only thing left for me to be was dead, like I’d finally stop disappointing everyo-him if I was gone.”

He looked at Susan and then Steve desperately, trying to catch his breath and failing, his face wet and his curls sticking to his forehead. 

“I woke up and I thought it was—I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry Steve. I’m sorry Susan, I’m sorry Max. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

***

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Steve shook his head, lowering his hands, a hot wash of compassion and heartache washing through each limb, making his fingers tingle with something like relief. “I realized – you were still dreaming. I knew you were still dreaming, it – it was a nightmare, Billy.” Steve winced at the idea of everything Billy had said – it was definitely a fucking nightmare. It sounded horrible. Like the mall only even worse, combined with the awful episode of last night, like two of the worst nights ever wrapped into one terrifying mess of a nightmare. 

Susan swept in from the side, her dressing robe fluffing out around her, ginger red hair up in curlers like I Love Lucy as she settled onto the side of the bed beside Billy. “Now Billy – Billy, please listen to me. Come here.” She reached out with inviting, self-manicured hands to wrap careful, soft arms around Billy, drawing him to her in the gentlest embrace, arms clasped around his other arm. Hugging him. 

“Your – father. Neil. He, he had a lot of problems. Troubles. You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? I think it was very difficult for him to see how many ways you’re so accomplished, you’re such a wonderful boy. You can be so caring, and kind, smart and thoughtful – given the chance. I’m just – I’m just so sorry I could never tell you. That I could never, never help you, until now. That it…that it took things getting to that point. No parent wants their child dead, not really. His mind is damaged, Billy – from the war, something, I don’t know. But that’s not your fault. None of it is, truly.” She hugged him even tighter, resting her chin against Billy’s forehead. 

“We don’t want you gone. And I’m sure Neil doesn’t either, not really. He’s just sick, Billy. Either that or...you know, he’s truly just a bad man. No matter what, he was completely in the wrong.. You’ve deserved so much better in your life, honey.” She was petting over Billy’s hair, in that way mom’s did. “We love you so much, all of us.”

“Yeah or Neil’s just evil….”Maxine muttered behind her mom. Steve agreed.

***

Billy really couldn’t have described it, the way Susan hugging him made him feel. Or rather he could, but it wouldn’t do it justice. Wouldn’t even touch it. The closest he could get was this terrible weight, this bag of stones he’d been lugging around for a decade. He could shoulder it but his muscles got weaker the longer he had to handle it by himself, made everything hurt all the time to the point he’d gotten to the night before. Too tired to move, too tired to change his clothes, too tired to want to be awake ever again. 

This? This was Susan lifting it off of him and dividing it up, giving him just what he could handle and taking the rest. Maybe Steve had it too, had taken on too much, needed Susan to do it too. 

He was crying again but it was a silent thing, not born out of fear or embarrassment, more like lancing a wound. He held onto Susan in a way he never had before, like he would’ve held onto his mother if she were there. She would’ve said the same things and she—she loved him too. 

“I can’t—do this, feel like this anymore,” he admitted, sniffing harshly into Susan’s soft robe, something Steve probably loved. “I’m tired, I’m too tired.”

***

“Oh, Billy, darling, you don’t need to.” She kept soothing over his soft curls – looking so fluffy, like they’d been brushed out. Let him hang onto her robes and just held on to him tighter. 

“You don’t need to carry all of this on your own, certainly not anymore. This is a new start, a new chapter, for all of us. But especially for you.” She pulled back just a little, nocking her finger beneath his chin and gently drawing his face up so that she could meet him eye for teary eye. 

“If you don’t take a fresh start, it’s letting him win. You’re very brave and strong, and I know you can do this. You can beat this. You have us that you can talk to, and, if it helps – perhaps we can find someone else for you to talk to, as well. Someone who might know how to help you feel a bit better. I’ve been so worried about you, these past weeks. Whatever you need, dear, I’ll help you with. You just say the word, alright?” Then she kissed him butterfly light on the forehead, and drew him back against her. “Goodness, what would we all say to some hot chocolate? Hm?”

***

Billy’s eyes fluttered closed at the lips on his forehead, not far from the scar he’d always have there now. It felt good enough that he could pretend for a second that it had made it disappear. For all that he worried about what his mother might’ve thought of him if she could see him grown up, he thought she’d be happy for him right then. He nodded at the suggestion because that’s something Steve would probably say too but he didn’t move for a minute, wanted to really savor the embrace he was getting. Susan let him. 

Finally when he was ready he pulled away, though not far. Just enough to grab for Steve’s hand and stand up, still plastered to Susan’s side. When they made their way down the hall, him on shaky legs, he felt a little hand at his back and didn’t flinch, relaxed under it instead. 

“Your aunt,” he said quietly to Steve, really looking at him for the first time since he’d become lucid, something hopeful and exhausted on his face. “Could I talk to her? See her maybe?”

***

Steve held on to Billy’s hand as Susan kept an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his upper arm as they made their way through the trailer to the kitchen. Steve’s dark eyes, bruised underneath from – well – bruises, and lack of sleep – flitted up to Billy’s, and he smiled tentatively back at him. “Yeah. Yeah I think that’d be really good – she’s gonna love you. I think you’ll really like her too. I’ll give her a call.”


	7. Chapter 7

They had to drive. It wasn’t a short distance – but they had the tape deck to fill up the car with jams , and snacks; beef jerky and cheetos and pringles and a good supply of Now ‘n Laters. When they finally rolled into Chicago in the Beamer, they checked into a hotel first. Steve paid with his fancy credit card from his dad for ‘emergencies’ and threw their luggage in the hotel room, before they headed straight to his aunt’s office. They were staying the weekend, and Billy got to meet with Aunt Bea twice – once on Saturday and once on Sunday. She’d wanted to see them asap. Told them to come today – so they did. It was the weekend, after all, and she was popping into the office on her days off to see Billy. She’d warned Steve over the phone – when he’d called her last night at like, midnight – that therapy could take time. Weeks, months, more like years. But it would be a start.

Now Steve and Billy were sitting in the waiting room and Steve was sucking down some of the shitty, black coffee (making a face) that was brewed by the receptionist – who was NOT as happy to be here on her day off – and blinking sleepily at the ceiling, head tilted back against the wall in this super uncomfortable chair. He gently rested his hand over the top of Billy’s on the armrest, briefly brushing his fingertips over his knuckles before he drew his hand away. The receptionist was eyeballing them over her desk with huge, winged glasses that were bejeweled. Sniffing and shuffling papers. He could sort of sense that Billy seemed – nervous. Maybe it was the leg. Maybe just the atmosphere.

“It’ll be alright. It’ll be good.” He said in a low voice.

The door to the office swung open, and Auntie Bea stepped out.

“Oh Stevie, I’m so glad you’re here – “ She grinned at them, giving this dorky little wave. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you at the hotel like I meant to, but you guys got checked in alright? You must be Billy! Hi there, I’m Bea.” 

Bea smiled brightly at Billy with straight white teeth and held out her hand for him to shake. 

“Hey Auntie Bea. Yeah, we did - it was alright.” Steve smiled right back at her, and it was a little eerie, really, how alike their smiles were – or so they’d been told. Bea looked a lot like her brother – but Steve looked even more like his aunt than he did his dad. He’d been told that sometimes aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews, often tended to look really similar – who knew why? Not Steve. Probably some DNA doctor or something would. 

She had the same wild hair as Steve, but longer, down to her shoulders and just about as teased up – she was wearing a very casual yellow and white striped sweater, with some pale washed blue jeans and high top white sneakers. She gave Steve a big bear hug, which had him blushing and hugging her back - she was a little taller than him, with similar slender, long limbs.

(The receptionist eyeballed her, judgy, and sniffed again.)

Bea’s eyes were the same too, big, dark brown does eyes, framed in long lashes, but her face was softer – she could have almost been identical twins with Steve, if Steve were a girl, and about ten years older. She was his dad’s (much) younger sister, by eleven years.

“Hope you don’t mind my ‘casual’ clothes - no suits on Saturdays – it’s a rule. ‘No-suit Saturdays.’” She laughed. Steve laughed too. It wasn’t even actually funny. They’d even been told they laughed the same, though.

***

Billy shook her hand and then shook his head at the comment, a small smile on his face. They looked like carbon fucking copies of each other, standing all tall with their beautiful hair and laughing together. He took a minute to get up, some childish part of him wishing that he could just stay scrunched up on the couch instead. 

He’d decided to forgo any concealer on his neck today, something that had seemed like a good idea at the time. The longer they drove the more nervous he got about it though, and he could swear the receptionist was staring at it. The doctor had said—and the nurse had repeated, over and over—that his neck would take a little while to heal. The marks wouldn’t last, just like any other bruise, but these were contusions and those took their sweet fucking time. 

“I—uh,” he said eloquently, clearing his throat to no avail. His voice was scratchy again from throwing up and screaming, not doing his anxiety any favors at all, keeping in some kind of memory limbo of the mall all day. “He’s not—coming in, right?”

***

Steve stepped back from his Aunt, still holding the coffee mug in one hand, which he’d carefully balanced around her great big hug – eyebrows sweeping up.

“Huh? Oh no, no I’m not. I mean, I’ll be out here if you need me or something, but this is all your time. My Aunty Bea will take good care of you.” Steve smiled at him with all of the reassurance he could muster. “I’m gonna be out here drinking more of this – “ He glanced once at the receptionist, sitting behind her desk like a disgruntled toad. Staring at him. “Uh, really – great coffee.” He said mildly, toasting the mug and taking a sip without grimacing, before he settled back into his seat. 

“Thanks again, Aunty.” He smiled up at her and she smiled back, blew Steve a little kiss before directing that warm glow upon Billy.

“Just you and me! You’re safe with me, I promise. I don’t bite. Much.” She winked at him and wandered into the office, holding the door open for Billy to follow. 

She didn’t look at his throat. Not once. 

It was a cozy little room with shelves of books on the walls – not just stuffy scholarly books, but all kinds of books. Chapter books, journals and novels, even some Stephen King, all mixed together to create this cacophony of book spines, all loud bright colors mixing together. There was a desk shoved over to the side of the room, but with two comfy armchairs in the middle on a woven rug, colorful, hand made quilts draped over the backs - sorta close to each other, but no shrink couch or anything like that. There were a few bright paintings on the walls of sunflowers, Picasso style, and several stark black and white photos of her travels. 

Bea grabbed a little chart from the desk with some paperwork. 

“I’m really so glad you decided to meet with me today. Please have a seat Billy – “ She glanced over the chart. “I’ll just have a few little spots for your signature, okay? It’s nothing big, just something we need to get out of the way before our chat today. I already sent everything else to your step-mother. This basically says that everything we say in here is confidential – and that I don’t disclose anything you say, to anyone, at any time, unless I think you may pose a threat to yourself or others. Legal mumbojumbo that we have to talk about, and then it’s all over with. And it says William on here – is that correct?” 

She settled into the seat opposite Billy, having let him pick his seat first. She set the papers on the little coffee table in front of them, where there was also a little pot of chamomile tea and two mugs. There was also a Gulla basket there with an assortment of tactile objects to fiddle with.

“Would you like some tea? It’s very good, and I bought the honey from the farmers market this past summer.” 

***

“Billy,” Billy said quickly, a lightning bolt of response, barbed and defensive as he sat down in the seat clos st to him. He breathed in through his nose and then out, mouth twisting a little in guilt. “It’s Billy. Only one person ever called me William—don’t really like it.”

That was a massive fucking understatement. The only times he could recall hearing his given name were out of his father’s mouth and always, always with some scorn or disappointment attached. Still, he felt a little bad for snapping so he nodded to the tea, took a little cup in his less than delicate hands and set it down next to him. 

“Really? Anything I say?” he asked curiously, cursive scrawl flourishing over the lines Bea had graciously highlighted. If his hands were still a little jittery, if his knee was still jiggling in a way Steve would’ve gently patted—well, he tried not to pay it any attention. 

***

“You know, my name is actually Beatrice.” Bea said, raising her eyebrows at him, much like Steve might if he thought something was funny or amusing. “Beatrice! I’m not kidding. I can’t stand it. So I like when people call me Bea. Billy it is! And hopefully you don’t mind calling me Bea?” She poured herself a cup of tea too, mixing in a bit of honey with a teaspoon, much like she’d done with Billy’s for a scratchy throat. The spoon tinkled against the sides of the porcelain. 

She took a mental note of Billy’s defensive tone of the name – and it was easy to draw a few conclusions to who might call him William. So she’d steer clear. 

“And really, really! Anything you say. As long as it won’t bring harm to yourself or anyone else, you can literally tell me anything, and I won’t say a peep. Not to anyone, not ever. Pinky promise.” 

She eased back in her chair and gently breathed in the steam rising from the liquid gold of her tea.

“I love a good cup of chamomile. They’ve used it since ancient times as a kind of medicine to help with relaxation. I have a cup every day - sometimes I get the jitters.” 

She eyed his knee for a moment, at the faint shake of the porcelain cup in his overly large hands. It was making the plate beneath it rattle. “You know, I have a fun basket of toys on the table – you’re welcome to pick through them and see if anything catches your eye. I really like the squishy ball – I’m pretty sure I have very muscular forearms from it – what do you think?” She held out an arm, sliding her sleeve up to her elbow – okay it was definitely not muscular, but toned, perhaps. “I could probably beat anybody in arm wrestling.” She said sagely. 

***

Billy chewed the inside of his cheek at the word toys, eyes shooting down to the woven basket. Well, if she couldn’t legally tell anyone what he said, it wasn’t likely she could tell anyone what he did either. Embarrassing himself didn’t count as harmful, technically, so he reached into it and pulled out something that looked like tangled up plastic. His fingers wound around it instead of the cup and it felt similar to gripping the steering wheel so tight it hurt, only it didn’t hurt like this. 

He tried to hide a smile at the arm wrestling comment, thought of all the ones he’d won. Bea’s demeanor was settling him not much different than Steve’s did, that little hint of goofiness and do-gooder shit that usually made him roll his eyes. 

“Never lost a match,” he mused, looking down at the plastic, tangling and untangling. Over and over and over. “Never lost when I did wrestling either, for the short time I did it.”

***

Bea replaced her sleeve and picked her teacup back up, sipping at it and staring over the rim at Billy with wide eyes. Nodding a little as she swallowed a mouthful of chamomile. She made another mental note of how Billy’s leg stopped jiggling as much once he started fidgeting with the plastic tangle. 

“Well someday, you’re on!” Her mouth pursed up into a cute little smile at the corners. “Apparently they don’t expect us to arm wrestle in here. But another time! So you were in wrestling? That sounds like fun. I like watching the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling on TV, they’re so fierce. Why was it only a short time? Did you not enjoy it?” 

***

Billy’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he let himself smile, closed lipped but still a smile. He thought about showing that show to Steve some time, if he’d be as enthusiastic. His fingers looped in and out of the plastic, holding on harder at the question. 

“No, I—really liked it. I liked it a lot more than any other team sport I did, even more than basketball now,” he admitted, the tangle snapping apart in his fingers and making his eyes widen. It was fine though, not broken, actually popped off into little sections so it was okay. He hadn’t destroyed anything. “Neil came to a match and pulled me off the team the second I was done with my first grapple. Didn’t even get to finish, went home early. Said it was too queer, signed me up for basketball instead.”

***

They settled into an easy conversation after that – Bea treating everything Billy said in a very relaxed manner, nodding and absorbing and – on occasion, jotting a little note down in a notepad at her side, but she didn’t seem particularly concerned with it. She never seemed shocked, disgruntled, or even mildly uncomfortable. It’s not like she wrote down every word, and it was only in passing. 

She was more interested in looking at Billy and keeping eye contact and nodding along, listening, and replying when needed – offering a few thoughts and observations. Pouring Billy more tea. Mostly it was about listening today, though – it was their first session and she was trying to get a feel for him, a feel for why he’d come to her, and where his mind was. 

Altogether, she found it to be very successful for getting an idea of these very things. 

And he’d be back tomorrow, so – they’d get an even better feel for each other. At some point she even wrapped a blanket around her own shoulders like it might be cool in the office, letting Billy know he was welcome to do the same if needed – that darn furnace. She even went over and hit the coils with a wrench before she came back over and plopped back into her seat. The entire environment was more like a personable discussion between friends – one that you could tell secrets to, and feel okay about it. She gestured a lot with her hands like Steve did, communicating with those large earnest brown eyes as well, all softened by that easy demeanor - she even gave Billy some saltwater taffy at one point to compliment the tea.

***

Billy reluctantly took his hands off of the plastic tangle and let her drop a taffy down into one of them, tilting his head like he was studying it. They’re from San Francisco! That made him smile a little too, something he’d done a couple of times so far. Talking about Neil even in tiny little mentions fucking sucked but it finally didn’t feel like he was saddling someone with it. 

“Grew up there,” he said, voice lighter than it had been in the beginning, throat just a little less sore. He bit off half of the taffy, the familiar taste of pulled sugar exploding over his tongue. “Used to go to Candy Baron and fill my pockets with these when I was little. Stopped passing it in favor of other shit, I guess.”

***

Bea nibbled on a piece too, pulling off a bit and chewed it thoughtfully, eyeing Billy with a little tilt of her head. 

“Grew up there, huh? What a beautiful city to grow up in. I can’t say I’ve been to that particular place – one of your old haunts? – it’s funny how much our sense of taste, and smell, can be tied to childhood memories. Maybe you can go back there if you’re able to visit. Your graduation is coming up soon, right? Are you thinking of going back?” 

***

Billy thought it was pretty stupid that that question was the one to make his eyes burn, his chin move traitorously. The taffy was suddenly too sweet and he swallowed it, grabbing the plastic tangle and gripping it hard, turning it in his hands. 

“I didn’t get letters back,” he said after a minute, after the lump in his throat subsided a bit. “I don’t know if Neil intercepted them or they got lost in the mail or—so, I don’t know. I guess I always figured I’d stay, just until Max got out of the house. Keep an eye on her and Susan and everything, stay at home to make sure nothing happened to them. Now that he’s in jail I guess-I guess I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

***

Bea leaned over to rest the soft line of her jaw against a fist, looking thoughtful as she thought over what he was telling her.

“It’s possible,” She agreed, after what he’d told her about his father. “Have you tried giving them a call? A phone might be more reliable. And, if not, that’s no reason to hamper you from going back. People change so much during high school, and beyond – perhaps you could find a new social circle, if you did decide to go back on a more permanent basis. And if even only to visit, it might feel good just to revisit old memories, favorite places, eating at a restaurant you used to love. Just for yourself. I think it’s rather brave of you to stay for your family – it really does speak worlds of your character, I think. But you’re right – now that he’s gone, everyone gets a new start. Them, and you. So what might your new start be? Maybe it’s time to start thinking about that. You have a world of opportunities at your fingertips – travel? Go to college? Or smaller things – like maybe you could find an apartment in Hawkins. Maybe not Hawkins. Maybe not California. Maybe somewhere completely new. Your opportunities are endless - you have this whole, beautiful life ahead of you. Our time’s almost come to an end, and our little Steve is probably getting restless.” 

She smiled at him over the graceful arch of her wrist, little crinkles forming at the corners of her eyes. 

“Maybe you can give it a bit of thought tonight – what you want. Without having to worry about what anyone else wants, or expects – just what you might enjoy. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at the same time? So we can talk more then. I’ll make you a deal - perhaps you can think of just one thing tonight that you’d like to do for yourself. It can be as small, or as big, as you’d like. Maybe even as simple as styling your hair different, or as big as getting a job for the summer. Maybe making a phone call to an old friend. Anything. And I’ll have more of this taffy for you tomorrow. ” 

***

Billy mulled the idea over, enormous and intimidating as it was. So much had gone on over the last few months that he hadn’t thought of any alternatives to staying in his house and keeping the women in his family safe. It had just felt like his lot in life, resigning himself to being a punching bag until Max graduated, maybe sticking around Hawkins just to try and keep his eye on Susan. That’s all he’d really envisioned for himself, silly dreams about college always just an escape hatch, just in case. 

Except maybe it wasn’t so silly, hearing Bea put it that way. If his family was getting a fresh start then so was he, his stepmother and sister safe and him free to—what? 

It was too big to think about now but he got the feeling that Bea realized that, posed something smaller for him to mull over. He thought about the word pretty and how long it had been since he’d heard it or felt it. He thought about showing Steve his high scores at Pier 39 in person, getting to see the sun hit Steve’s skin, see how many more freckles would explode across his shoulders. 

“Okay,” he said finally, standing up and realizing how far he’d sunk into his seat. More like he normally would’ve, curled up like a cat wherever he could fit. “I’ll—think on it.”

***

“Sounds great.” Bea held out a hand to him again to shake it once more, and gently patted him on the shoulder with the other. “You think about it, and we’ll talk tomorrow. You just hang in there, alright? Sometimes when things seem dark, it’s because the light is just around the corner. Keep your chin up, Billy. Think of what you want for you. And I'll see you soon. Keep Stevie in line tonight, alright? He’s not used to the big city.”

She patted his shoulder again and moved away, gathering up the china from table, dropping taffy wrappers into empty teacups. As they moved out of the office, she deposited them in the sink of the little kitchenette where the coffee maker was.  
“Alright Paulette, you’re free to go! Thank you so much for coming in today.” Bea waved at the receptionist.

Paulette, apparently, grunted from behind the desk. Bea sighed.

Steve stood from where he’d been seated, and he looked a little jittery from too much coffee, hair extra big. “Hey!” He said, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and rocking forward on the toes of his Nikes. “How’d it go?” 

***

Billy nodded, head filled with thoughts of Steve looking wide eyed in a city. Right now all he really wanted to do was collapse face first somewhere, preferably a bed. He was smiling at Bea, a real, toothy one when he got a look at Steve. Beautiful, kind Steve, the one who’d driven him here, who looked like he’d put his finger into an electrical socket. 

He surged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Steve’s waist, pressing his face into the top of Steve’s shoulder. It didn’t matter to him what it looked like, nothing could really top the memory of having his picture taken in that house and plus—Steve had held his hand the whole way out of there anyway. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, sighing heavily, the exhaustion really hitting him but the stormcloud a little thinner now. 

***

Steve’s face lifted as he wrapped his arms in a gentle curve around Billy’s back, just beneath his arms, knocking the side of his head against the side of Billy’s – temple to temple, this fond nudge. He could feel the exhaustion in every line of Billy’s body against his, even as Steve’s vibrated with a caffeine high.  
“That good, huh?” He huffed a laugh up at the ceiling as he rocked Billy back in the hug before straightening them up again. “You’re welcome. Sometimes I have pretty great ideas.” 

Bea’s sharp eyes followed the lines of their bodies – really, an expert in body language if she did say so herself, particularly with her one and only nephew – known him since he was born, after all – and she smiled a little. Rinsing the dishes in the sink to give them a moment, back turned away – Paulette had gotten out of there like a bat out of hell without a word. 

“Why don’t you boys go take a nap? You had a long drive, it’ll do you both some good.”

***

Billy nodded against Steve’s shoulder at the suggestion, his hand roaming over Steve’s spine one last time before they separated. He nodded again once he was looking at Bea, the similarities to the jittery person he was in love with more striking now that they were side by side again. It made him feel warm, though the exhaustion definitely overrode it. 

“I—thank you,” he said, shaking Bea’s hand one last time. “I’ll think on it, really.”

He took the time to for the couple of minutes they spent driving to the hotel, curled up in his seat and yawning widely. He thought about some day in the future, some possibility of driving home with Steve like this but—maybe their home. Their shitty little apartment. Maybe. 

***

Steve helped Billy all the way up to their hotel room on the sixteenth floor, settling him in the bed, yanking his boots off – like dejavu – and then toed off his Nikes before he clambered into the bed next to his mostly unconscious boyfriend. It was a shame he’d drunk so much coffee to stay awake, and now that he could finally sleep, he really couldn’t. He sort of drifted, though, in some weird caffeinated in between place, where he felt kind of buzzy and drowsy at the same time. Just drifting. 

But hours passed like that, and he figured that he must’ve gotten some kind of rest, because when he opened his eyes again the hotel provided alarm clock on the bedside table read six o’clock. They’d gotten back to the hotel at like, noon. Steve blinked blearily, one arm thrown messily over Billy’s chest, his cheek pressed into one massive bicep – and his stomach hurt. 

“M’stomach hurts,” he pouted into Billy’s arm, at nobody in particular. 

***

Billy grunted in response, half heartedly patting the top of Steve’s head before his hand flopped onto Steve’s cheek. He was mostly sleeping still but figured it was probably time to get upright, not an easy thing to convince himself of when they were both so comfortable. Except Steve said—

“Yeah? We should eat something,” he said, fingers coming to life against Steve’s cheek, the tips of them brushing across his cheekbone, trying to put some hair behind his ear. “Stomach’ll feel better then, lots of water too. Time’sit?”

***

“Uhmmmmmh like, six – food sounds gross.” He turned his face a little to sigh into Billy’s skin, enjoying the sensation of those callused fingertips tickling over his cheek. It made goosebumps flare out over his arms in delight. Tucking the hair behind his ear, a fruitless gesture. Steve’s own fingers curled up against the fabric of Billy’s shirt, shifting to tuck themselves into the split of his undone strip of buttons – searching out the skin of his chest. Resting a palm over the thump of that steady heartbeat. 

“Whaddya wanna eat? I’ve only been here a few times and it’s usually with my parents – they eat at awful places. Have you been to Chicago yet? Since you moved here?” His voice moved slowly, as if he were forming the syllables through mud behind his teeth.

***

Billy hesitated to answer, pressing Steve closer against him and tangling their legs together. He certainly had been here before, to say the least. He could very distinctly remember a few choice times and a few choice nicknames. Maybe Steve didn’t have to know too much about that, or maybe—he thought of his bag at the foot of the bed, the stuff he usually packed with him to go to Chicago or Indianapolis. 

“Mhm, been here a good handful of times since we came to Hawkins,” he said lightly, feigning innocence as he carded his fingers through Steve’s soft hair. “We could eat at Chances R, rinky dink burger place but their fries are sick. Unless you want something less heavy, but I think your stomach would appreciate getting filled up, honestly.”

***

Steve liked the ways their legs linked together like puzzle pieces, perfectly intertwined, delighting in the feeling of Billy’s body so firmly against his own. He pressed the length of his body along his and tried to ignore the heat that built in his belly whenever he was close to Billy like this – especially lately. He tamped it down, until he couldn’t feel it anymore – fitted against the curves of the other boy, the jut of his hips, like they were molded together. 

“Didn’t know you’d been before – this is my first time here without my parents. Burgers…don’t sound too bad. Might just start with the fries though, ‘n see. Probably all that shit we ate on the ride here, and I maybe drank, way too much coffee. I have regrets.” Steve hummed drowsily as Billy carded those rough fingers through his hair, shivering at the sensation of blunt nails sliding over his scalp. Tipping the weight of his head back into his touch. 

Ah shit, now he really was getting turned on, the fingers in his hair pushing him too far. He abruptly drew away from Billy, regretfully disconnecting their legs to slide to the edge of the bed, scrubbing both hands over his face and slapping his cheeks a little. Blinking himself awake, hair a wild mess. 

“Be right back..” He mumbled and wandered to the bathroom to splash cold water in his face and brush his teeth. Get away from Billy’s inviting, albeit injured body for a minute. 

Granted, a month had passed already, but…the scrape of Billy’s voice made it feel like it was just yesterday, and the last thing Steve wanted to do was hurt him. His throat was still a painting of violence, and Steve could see the bruises behind his ears if his hair moved just right - despite the weeks having passed. And broken ribs didn’t heal overnight. Fractured. Whatever. The last thing Billy needed, especially after last week, was Steve being some horny fucking inconsiderate bastard. Honestly, after last night he - he didn’t really know if Billy would even want to do that with him. Even if he was 100% well. Between the closet, and the...the nightmares...he just needed time and space to heal. Physically and mentally. 

***

Billy watched Steve go and the thought grew and grew and before he knew it he was pulling his duffel bag out and rifling through. It wasn’t typical of him to ever put his extra shit out of the bag and he hadn’t gone out out since he started seeing Steve. That meant everything was right where he left it and he took it as some sign, some little silver lining. 

Think of what you want for you. 

What he wanted was that feeling again, of looking at himself in the mirror and seeing what he wanted to. Not the sad shell he’d been looking back at the past few weeks, not even the monkey suit he put himself in for all of the people who used to be his friends. What he wanted was pretty. 

He started to cover his neck up but this time tried not to think of it as hiding or trying to strike the memory completely away, more like—just setting it aside for a short time. Just for himself. For the past month his curls had gotten fucking big, too exhausted to bother doing them and too touched by the way Steve would brush them out before bed. It made him look a little softer around the edges, a little bit of femininity Neil would’ve hated and that just made it feel even better. 

Putting mascara on in the comfort of a room not likely to be barged into was nice, made it easier for him to make sure it was perfect. He’d taken to shaving regularly again since going back to school so he didn’t have that to worry about, ran his fingers over his own smooth cheek, tried to think pretty. 

***

When Steve came out of the bathroom after fixing his hair – hairspray, a little water, the blow dryer, and a prayer holding it in place, and with a smooth face complete with aftershave - he watched as Billy sat in front of the mirror of the room at the desk, applying makeup. 

Steve smiled faintly at the image – of the care and precision Billy used. A warm, overwhelming surge of love blossoming in his chest. Making him tingle with the sensation. It was really good to see Billy primping in front of the mirror, like usual - like before. Last night didn’t really count because Steve had been too pissy, so he hadn’t had the time to appreciate it. He changed in the background, getting dressed to go out to dinner – sliding on a fresh pair of jeans, boxer briefs, and a crisp navy blue polo with yellow stripes around the collar and the hems of the sleeves. 

He patted on some of his CK cologne and then came up behind Billy, looping lanky arms around those broad shoulders, dark eyes flashing in the mirror – staring back at a reflection. “You look pretty, babe.” He said softly, smiling at Billy’s reflection, and pressed a kiss against a silky smooth cheek. “You smell nice.” He hummed, nosing at Billy’s earlobe, the dangle of his earring. 

***

Billy flushed at the word, that perfect word, the one he’d missed Steve saying. He looked at Steve’s reflection and hummed back, stretching his neck to get Steve to roam a little more. If he hadn’t been just about done with the mascara he probably would’ve held him off but the attention came at the perfect time, sealing the mascara up and setting it onto the table. 

“We can go to that burger place tomorrow, I got a better idea,” he said, smiling in the mirror before getting fixated on a curl. He spun it around his finger but didn’t move even an inch away from Steve, even used his free hand to idly touch at Steve’s side. “It’s just a ten minute walk away, you’ll like it. But I’ve gotta change and do one or two more things. That sound okay?”

***

When Billy stretched his neck out a little, Steve tried to remember that there was foundation on parts of it – most of it – and carefully pressed one, two, three kisses into the upper part of his throat, closer to his jaw than anything – not roaming any farther south than that. Chaste, brief things. 

His eyes made smiling shapes as he admired the way Billy perfected that one corkscrew curl that liked to sweep across his forehead. He pressed another kiss to that delicate throat.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Take your time, I’m trying to get my stomach to chill. Whatever you think – you sound like you’re a local or something. Isn’t Chicago huge? Where have you been here?”  
He huffed a warm laugh against Billy’s skin before he pulled away a little, glancing up into those gorgeous, mascara darkened eyes. He caught a shimmer of – glitter? In Billy’s hair. It caught in the light, sparkling. Steve’s thick brows edged up a little.

He liked it, it was really - really actually super hot, but – “Is – do you have glitter in your hair?” He asked. “I really like it. But – am I missing, something? Are we going somewhere really fancy for dinner or something? Should I change…?”

***

“Thanks, the hair’s sort of integral every time I’ve gone into Boystown,” Billy said, smiling when Steve said he liked it, reaching up to touch an equally soft cheek and careful not to touch Steve’s hair. “It’s Friday night so I’m taking us to the gay district for dinner and dancing. I promise it’ll be fun, nothing crazy. It’s gonna feel—like it should all the time, for both of us.”

He kept his hand on Steve’s cheek to look him in the eyes, something on his face that he hoped said it’s not like last night, this is the opposite of pretending. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth, all too aware of the kid gloves Steve had been handling him with lately. He knew Steve did it out of a good place in him so he tried to just let the feeling slide off, wondered if Bea would say he’d made a healthy decision. 

He moved away from the little vanity to change—or, well, sort of. He slipped his jacket off and then his shirt, exchanging it for his denim jacket and nothing else, just the same black jeans he’d been wearing. As he buckled his boots he started to really feel more like himself, a total peacock with no ill intentions or harm in sight, free to look the way he wanted. 

***

Steve stood and came to sit on the bed, cross legged in his jeans and white Nike socks – tracking Billy’s progress across the room as he placed his hands over his ankles. It felt like a rare glimpse of the Billy that he’d come to love – like the first real look at him in, what felt like…forever, though Steve knew it was just weeks. Not even last night had Billy looked like this. Something that Steve hadn’t realized had been tightening, progressively in his chest, seemed to ease up just a little bit – with a feeling like everything was gonna be okay. Maybe today really had helped with his Auntie – even if it had only been one session. Steve didn’t know what she’d said, but, it must have done something. 

Because he was finally seeing his boy looking something like happy for the first time in what felt like a long time. And it felt to Steve a lot like relief. It had felt like they’d been walking in this maze of stress every day for weeks, and here in this hotel room, hours away from anyone they knew, it finally felt like that storm was starting to ease up. Steve was so tense he felt like a shaken up champagne bottle, with the cork about to pop, and nothing had been able to help it - running, basketball, sleeping, jacking off in the shower, nothing. 

“Boystown?” Steve asked, leaning forward a little as he appreciated the skin Billy was starting to show. Gaze sweeping over him in a once over. Actually shedding his shirt, and replacing it with – only his jacket? Steve blinked at that, something – incredibly fucking hot about him only wearing the denim. “I didn’t…didn’t even know there was a gay district here. I’ve never met anyone else that was.” He said after a moment, his throat a little dry as he watched Billy. He tried swallowing, but had trouble. He had to adjust his jeans a little, discreetly., before he smiled in something like delight. “Dinner and dancing, huh? Are you gonna wine and dine me?” 

He liked the sound of it, though. Gonna feel—like it should all the time, for both of us.

Steve wasn’t sure what that actually meant, but, he knew he wanted to find out. He felt something sort of excited and unsure shiver through his bones at the same time, head perking up a little with interest.

“Am I – “ he glanced down at himself with a frown, a little furrow forming at his brow. He was wearing a polo. Definitely didn’t look as good as Billy, who looked entirely mouthwatering. “Is this okay?” 

***

“Mhm, feed you garbage food and sweat on a dancefloor with you and a million sweaty dudes,” Billy said, wiggling his eyebrows before smiling, one hard enough to make his eyes crinkle in the corners. “Some real Romeo shit.”

At Steve’s question he paused, the smile replaced by a frown as he turned to fully face the unsure looking boy in front of him. In a split second he was standing in front of him and looking down, both hands coming up to frame his face. 

“You,” he started, moving forward until his shins hit the mattress, fingers holding Steve in place. “Are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, the perfect person. You look handsome, you always, always look handsome. Especially now, and you’re gonna go out with me like that. Okay?”

***

The furrow of Steve’s brow smoothed at that, and he drew himself up onto his knees on the mattress, until they were eye to eye. Billy’s hands firm on his shoulders. He looped his arms easily around Billy’s neck, on his knees before him, dark eyes studying those of bright blue as the corners of his lips quirked up, cheeks flushing. The blush crept down his freckled throat at the word ‘perfect’.

“Well, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. So I guess we’re even. You look so gorgeous tonight – you look happier.” And Steve was glad for it. He leaned in and left a kiss against Billy’s cheek – he liked when he shaved like this, on the occasion his skin was perfect as satin. Besides his cute little peach fuzz moustache, of course. (Billy would throttle him if he heard Steve even think the word ‘cute.’)

“And if you’re sure, okay. I’m excited for garbage food and sweaty dancing with you.” He huffed a soft laugh, eyes lighting up as he kept his arms twined around Billy’s neck. “You almost ready to go, Romeo?” 

***

Billy felt happier, and everything seemed to get easier. Even if it was just for the night he’d take it, some short reprieve with the person he loved before they had to go back into their tiny little world. Going down to the ground floor of the hotel felt good, ribs not jostling or making him wince like they had the last couple of weeks. He kept a hand in Steve’s because now he could say he’d somehow survived the fucking devil, so the ten blocks it took to get to Boystown was fucking nothing. 

He sighed dreamily when he glimpsed the first rainbow hanging right outside Strawdog Theater, shaking and swinging Steve’s arm back and forth. The sun had set and people were everywhere, though he felt more at home, not like he might’ve been in Hawkins at night now. 

“Here, Little Jim’s,” he said, pulling Steve toward a bar with a very well loved looking green canvas awning, searching his jacket for his wallet and flashing his ID at the door. “Burgers are good and it’s not getting wild yet, not here. Mostly sweet old gay dudes here.”

***

Steve followed along by their linked hands, and everything felt kind of dreamy, like they were in a different world, and the buildings here were so big above them – everything was dark, but the lights were brilliant, and you couldn’t see a single star – the sky was too bright. Steve was still a little baffled that Billy seemed to know his way around so well. When they got to the bar, Steve blinked, and mimicked Billy, flashing his fake ID, before he tagged along after the blonde. Very aware of the warmth of the hand within his. 

This smaller man at the bar with graying hair and an old fedora glanced up at them upon their entrance and let out a wolf whistle. Steve wasn’t sure if it was at Billy, or him, or both of them. At the scandalized look on Billy’s face Steve found himself laughing, feeling warm and comfortable, and maybe a little red in the face, but he already liked this – holding hands in public, like they were a real item, out and about – and Steve LIKED that. He liked being able to be more public about his affections, so this was truly right up his alley. 

“It’s cute in here, I like it. It’s cozy.” He decided, glancing around at the sleepy little wood paneled bar – the pictures hanging on the walls, and the line of alcohol with a mirror behind the bar. He squeezed Billy’s hand once, tight. “This was a great idea.”

***

Billy smiled at Steve and squeezed back, sitting on a stool at the bar and encouraging Steve to sit next to him. He leaned forward, purposefully, and ordered them two burgers and fries with a smile he usually reserved for getting things. Whenever he came to places like this, or really went out, it seemed to come out no matter what. 

“To answer your question—well, questions, from before,” he said, fiddling with Steve’s hand, squeezing each long finger like he was memorizing them all over again. “I’ve come here like every other weekend, sometimes weekdays. Here or Indianapolis. Not since that night with you though.”

That night when they’d become a naked, sweating tangle of limbs on Steve’s living room floor. The night Steve had fucked him for the first time in his big, comfortable bed and made him feel like the most precious thing in the world. He’d thought it was a one time feeling, like maybe Steve was just like that during sex, but even outside of it he caught Steve looking at him that exact same way. 

***

Steve couldn’t explain it, but holding hands in public made him both jittery, but at the same time, acted as a balm to his nerves. Where he’d grown up, he would never, but here – it would take some time to adjust to just being able to…hold hands with a guy in public. But after what was now months of strictly no touching in public, with Steve being an incredibly physical, affectionate person…this was a welcome reprieve. Steve watched Billy’s face, as Billy studied the connection of their fingers, overlapping between them.

“Wow…that’s a long drive…” Steve’s brain ticked over what Billy had told him before – about the guys before, the men before, the ones out in Cali. He wondered if they’d been here, too, and out in ‘Napolis. He got a little line between his brows. “It’s definitely not Hawkins, that’s for sure. ‘Napolis, too. People seem…more laid back here, I guess.” 

Steve smiled a little at the mention of that night – one of the most surprising ever, he supposed, and the most impulsive. The second he’d taken his shirt off, throwing bedroom eyes at Billy over his shoulder. And it had all culminated, somehow, in them sitting in a gay bar in Chicago. Holding hands, waiting on burgers that Billy’d ordered for them like a date. This was a date. Steve’s smile broadened, tracing his thumb along the edge of Billy’s. “Guess you’re just stuck with me now in boring little Hawkins. We could - drive back here, more. If you miss it.” 

***

Billy shook his head, opening his mouth to answer when two plates were set out in front of them. He gave the bartender another one of those saccharine smiles before taking an enormous and unflattering bite of the burger, humming happily. Better than Hawkins burgers, that was for sure. He pushed Steve’s plate closer to him, eyebrows raised encouragingly, remembering his stomach ache when they’d woken up. 

“Whatever I was looking for out here, out in Indianapolis—I got it,” he said, cheeks flaring at his own sappy words, chewing a few more times and swallowing. “I already got it, have it right next to me.”

***

Steve felt something warm and sweet blossom in his chest, and it had nothing to do with the appetizing food laid out in front of them, no matter how good it smelled. It was entirely unrelated, had everything to do with what Billy’d just said. Steve smiled down into his food that Billy pushed towards him and started picking at the fries – his stomach was still a little queasy, and he chugged the water front of him in between a fry here and there. 

“Love you,” He said in a low voice, around some french fries – which were salted and seasoned and really good, especially with the ketchup. “Glad you found me – even if it was kind of a bumpy ride to get there.” 

He finally started in on his burger once his stomach started to growl for it, feeling better, and it was really, really, really good – he made a happy hum, but ate it slow, so his stomach wouldn’t change it’s mind. 

“This is…so good. Oh my god.” 

They finished up the meal pretty fast, chatting about random stuff - Max and school, their team, and The Cubs. Steve paid the bill from the wallet in his back pocket, shrugging back into his jacket as he slid off the barstool. Following Billy back out into the cool Chicago night, with talk of dancing on the air. 

***

Medusa’s was—well, on a Friday night it was full to the brim of people, bass thumping outside and a line down the block. It was lively but nowhere near as wild as Cheeks or Malebox and had the added benefit of no sour memories in it. Billy couldn’t say as much for the other places, places he didn’t want to replay those memories. Not when he had Steve holding onto him. 

“Okay, so I know the line is long,” he said, looking at Steve and then the crowd, leaning in for a short kiss against Steve’s cheek. “But it’s really fun in here. I bet I can get us—“

“Blondie?! The hell you been?”

Billy’s head whipped around at the sound of a familiar voice; an older guy built like a tank with a sort of Hell’s Angels look to him, leather jacket and fingerless gloves, practically screaming doorman. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the guy’s name but he’d seen him a good handful of times, charmed him enough times to cut past the line. 

“Busy,” he said, setting his chin on his shoulder and giving the guy a look, best one he had. It got an open arm ushering him and Steve past the line, an older, weathered face spread in a smile at the two of them. 

“You out making the boys cry someplace else?”

***

Steve wanted to say some kind of comment about ‘Blondie’ and how much of a regular Billy really seemed to be, but Billy didn’t answer the question – instead, he towedSteve along with the weighty line of his arm, guiding him through the crowd like they were one body, not two, and Steve stayed only one step behind him. He felt completely out of his element and well outside of his comfort zone, if he was being honest – he’d been to parties, but he hadn’t been to clubs, hell he’d only been to big cities with his parents, obviously, so….

But it was a lot to see. He couldn’t seem to stop looking – there was way too much to see, really, too much to take in that you just couldn’t catch all of it. Some of what he was seeing made him swallow hard, and he felt like his eyes were probably bugging out of his skull like in some sorta cartoon or something. He almost ran into Billy ‘cause he was keeping so close to him – practically giving him a flat tire with every step. He also felt a lot of eyes on them, in return – men watching them as they passed – most with bright, curious eyes, or appreciative looks, a mixture of a lot of expressions really…or they were completely ignored.

There was very little clothing, if he was being honest, and a lot of leather, and definitely so much skin. Everywhere. And Billy’s hair wasn’t the only thing that glittered – Steve felt like he’d gotten lost in a disco ball, especially the way the lights swung above them.

He couldn’t believe that Billy said this one was supposed to be LESS packed than some of the other clubs. There was a buzz of excitement in the air, and he could feel the bass vibrate in his belly, in his bones, and it smelled like sweat and pheromones and of spilled booze,. All topped off with a cloud of cigarette smoke above them, making everything a little hazy, that same dreamy feeling from before. Steve thought his mouth might be hanging open – and it felt a lot like the culture shock he’d gotten that one time they’d gone to France. 

***

Billy pushed and pulled them through the crowd, actively searching a pocket on the dancefloor not so packed with other people. He moved a little faster once he set his eyes on one, glancing back at Steve each time he knocked into the back of his boots, smiling. When he’d settled on a spot he turned around to face Steve, fingers catching him by the front of his shirt but careful not to wrinkle it. 

“Hi,” he said, voice hardly audible above the music and the sound of people cheering and talking. “I love you.”

He got to say it out loud, in public now. Right here in front of so many people, looking the way he always wanted to. This was something to do for himself—this. Telling Steve that he loved him as loud as he could, smile big and bright and full of teeth, one hand roaming back and up Steve’s spine, pulling him closer. 

“I look pretty, sweetheart?”

***

Steve hung onto the lapels of Billy’s jean jacket, just as Billy’s fingers tugged at the front of his polo, using him as an anchor in the sea of bodies. All twisting and dancing and jumping and spinning to the music, a song Steve hadn’t heard – he blinked down at Billy with wide eyes and an unsure smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He leaned in nice and close so that he was talking into Billy’s ear, hot breath brushing at the curls there, stirring the chain of his earring. 

“I love you too,” He said loudly enough that Billy would be able to hear him that up close. He caught the bright line of Billy’s smile in the darkened club as he pulled away, all straight white teeth and sharp canines, so many teeth. All teeth. Happy.

“You always look pretty. Always. You just look even prettier when you smile.” 

Steve called back to him, feeling a little funny standing still as people bopped to the beat around them. Steve grinned right back at Billy as the hand at his back pulled him closer, practically bumping chest to chest. 

***

Once Billy was satisfied that they were close enough he moved his arms up to wind around Steve’s neck instead, wrists crossed behind his head almost lazily. The sway of the crowd moved them at first, like being caught in a gentle tidal wave, everyone seeming to move to the same rhythm. It made it easy to move to the music without feeling like he was barreling into anyone, getting his footing slowly but surely like putting on something well loved and worn often. 

He thought of getting Steve to say more, make him wax poetic about just how pretty his smile was. He’d missed it, feeling wanted. He’d found what he was looking for, that was true, but the eyes he could feel roaming over him made him warm all over. 

“Kiss me, Steve,” he said, swaying their hips together in a slow roll forward, blinking mascara-laden eyelashes at the boy in front of him. “A real one?”

***

Where Billy’s forearms came to rest over Steve’s shoulders, looping around his neck, large, steady hands automatically braced against the sides of Billy’s waist, thumbs caressing over the plane of his stomach, fingers finding balance at his natural waistline. Careful to avoid his ribs. He hadn’t danced in a long time, it felt like, and Steve was caught somewhere between feeling too seen, and too exhilarated. The feelings clashed, but he thought maybe the exhilarating was winning – even if his reservations that had been ingrained into him over the course of a lifetime were straining and breaking away. He’d never felt quite so small town as being here.

Being surrounded by men of a similar mindset was – it was enlightening. They didn’t care. It wasn’t school. It wasn’t last night at the party. He’d already seen men kissing, dancing, grinding up against one another – all of them handsy with one another. And nobody cared. He thought of what Billy’d said earlier – that this was how they were supposed to feel. And Steve guessed it felt a little like being free. 

And it really did feel like they were caught in a sea, rolling with the motion of the waves, and Billy’s hips were moving with his, swaying with the beat. And he was watching him with those pretty, pretty blue eyes – which seemed to pop even more when they were framed with mascara – watching him expectantly. 

And in that moment any reservations faded away – no one cared here, practically invisible in the crowd – he bent his neck just enough to press a smiling kiss to Billy’s perfect, soft mouth, lips closed for a beat, two, of the music. Those sweet brown eyes were still cracked open, lashes lowered, watching Billy – before he parted his lips just a little, the hot point of his tongue gliding over the seam of that inviting mouth, searching. 

***

Billy smiled back into the kiss, though it didn’t last very long. The first bit of heat he’d gotten to feel in what seemed like ages settled over him at the swipe of Steve’s tongue and his lips parted in kind, a soft sound leaving his mouth, lost in the sounds of people moving and music urging them on. He heard a whistle not far off and knew it was meant for them, smiling all over again before deepening the kiss himself. 

Disco faded out in favor of Love My Way and Billy’s eyes fluttered closed, fingers curling and uncurling at the collar of Steve’s shirt. His hips moved a little more intentionally then, all the parts of Steve he’d missed pressed right up against him. It made him feel messy, desperate with it but he didn’t care, not even with the possibility of a hundred people watching him. He’d grind up against Steve, get Steve’s leg to press between his, try and get his tongue in his mouth. Get him to remember that he was this on top of everything else. 

***

Steve felt a bit of heat rise up from beneath the collar of his polo at the whistle from a distance, and he couldn’t help but respond as Billy started to deepen the kiss – even surrounded by a hundred bodies, he couldn’t help it. His eyes mirrored Billy’s, sliding closed on the dance floor, the colors of swinging strobe lights lighting up the backs of his eyelids like a rainbow. 

Billy was persistent when he wanted something, and it’d been a month since they’d done anything – even close to this. Resembling it in any form. Kissing more than brief, fluttering things, especially when Billy’s throat still sounded like death, voice nothing more than a rasp. 

Although Steve had been pliant against Billy, easily moving with him, swaying with him, mouthing their lips together, tongues briefly touching, the thought had him go a little still, feeling ill – just for a second. He’d forgotten, just for that second – how could he have forgotten? – too swept up in the feeling, the atmosphere, the freedom of it with Billy. 

But suddenly he could feel his mouth on Billy’s, and there was no breath panting back against his own, and he was spilling breath into those still lungs – Steve’s eyes snapped open as he flinched away – but he had enough brain power to try and mask it, slipping to the side of Billy’s mouth instead. Too cautious of that mouth, of his throat, of remnants of violence around his trachea. 

But he tried not to show it. 

Instead, he gently pressed a kiss to the corner of Billy’s mouth, leading along the smooth, sturdy line of his jaw, mouthing along there until he could nestle against Billy’s ear with that fluffy, radiant hair – inhaling hairspray and cologne, getting glitter on his nose. 

His hips still rocked back against Billy’s, a little breathless with the movement of them, and he could already feel Billy’s cock – half hard in his jeans against him.And Jesus, Steve’s was too.

Strong, slender hands moved from Billy’s waist to slip under the hem of that denim jacket instead, dizzied with the fact that they immediately met nothing but skin – miles of it – and he rest his hands there instead, fingers wandering over the ridges of his abs, professionally avoiding the indents of his ribcage. Slotting his leg between Billy’s, just like he seemed to want. 

***

A little frisson of hurt worked its way into Billy’s gut, expression mirroring the feeling out of Steve’s sight. God, he’d missed Steve’s mouth, he’d really missed it and it was gone again. Some self consciousness started to rear up in him; maybe he didn’t look as good as he thought, maybe—

But then Steve was still touching him, touching him more even. It was enough to distract him from his thoughts completely, arousal washing over everything as they moved together. 

This he knew, this he was good at to the point that he didn’t have to question it. 

His hands moved of their own volition, one sliding to the other side of Steve’s shoulders to keep him close, keep his head where it was. The other trailed down his chest, feeling the muscle hidden underneath his shirt and he’d missed that too, so bad he could taste it. Some other song came on, a bit faster than the last so he moved with it, soft whines finding their way into Steve’s ear, eyes still blissfully closed. 

***

Steve hung on to the edges of Billy’s bare waist beneath the jacket, fingers twitching, and really, most of the people started to fade into nothing but background noise – all there was was the beat of the music and the grind of Billy’s hips against his as they danced. Steve was gasping for breath at the friction, gasping in Billy’s ear – and he was so fucking turned on by those little whines that Billy was making, he hadn’t heard those sounds in so long, and he’d been told he processed a lot of things audiotorially.

The hips rubbing in time with his, and the occasional brush of a rock hard cock against his own definitely helped with the whole ‘being turned on’ thing on the dance floor thing. When their dicks did happen to graze through their jeans, below their belt buckles, it was like a zing went straight up Steve’s spine and he went rigid with each, unlasting touch. Towards the beginning of the month, he’d been doing alright – honestly nightmares and really daymares and trying to help Billy just get through each day, and eventually dealing with his parents, and school, and all of the stress of it had basically made it impossible for him to get it up. He hadn’t even had morning wood the first couple weeks. He’d thought he might be sick or something. 

But the last week, week and a half, when it wasn’t a nightmare – mostly when it was just black, empty dreams, he’d woken up a few times with damp boxer briefs. Burning with shame; what was he, twelve? He’d tried to start jacking off in the shower after that, and at least he could get it up again – thought it might help with his stress, but it hadn’t, really. It just seemed to make him more anxious. 

Now, with Billy grinding up against him, picking up the pace, and everything was all sweat and music and noise and way too much sensory overload to process anything, Steve found himself getting really overwhelmed, really fast. He’d never felt so hard up since maybe freshman year. 

His fingers flinched against Billy’s sides again, and Steve’s hips stuttered eagerly against his, and it was totally fucking wild that they were completely surrounded by people, but it was dancing – it was supposed to be dancing, wrapped up in each other – somehow the fact that they were in the middle of a crowded room made it that much hotter. Made Steve feel hotter. He was sweating under his collar, mouthing messily, wetly, at the spot of Billy’s neck just beneath his earlobe, eyes closed. Making little needy sounds and muted moans. Inhaling the pheromones put off from Billy’s scalp, they were driving him wild, and he couldn’t do jackshit about it. 

***

“Hotel,” Billy panted into Steve’s ear, gasping at a particularly good suck of Steve’s lips against his skin. He craned his neck for more, the hand on Steve’s chest moving to the small of his back, arousal rocketing bright and blinding through every nerve. 

He hadn’t wanted—hadn’t thought it was okay to want like this since everything happened. But it was here now, spurred on by the crowd around them, couples peppered throughout the dancefloor with the exact same idea. His erection wasn’t up for debate and neither was Steve’s, a shiver running down his back each time they brushed. The hand around Steve’s shoulder grabbed one of Steve’s hands, tried to steer it to squeeze his ass instead of his waist. 

“Hotel.”

***

Steve was nodding against Billy, his arousal completely getting the best of him, just blindly nodding at the suggestion. Yes, god, please yes. He was so turned on, his body so lit up, all he wanted was for Billy to touch him, and to touch Billy. When Billy moved Steve’s hand, showing what he wanted, both of his hands moved – they tucked into the back pockets of Billy’s jeans, and just squeezed. Rutting in earnest against him. Nodding, nodding, wanting to suck a mark into Billy’s throat, but too aware of the bruises behind Billy’s ear, and the ones below. “Yeah, yeah, wanna go,” Steve breathed against Billy’s ear, because he was seriously gonna blow it and he really didn’t want to, not here, and not in his jeans. 

So they left. 

By the time they got back to the hotel though, after a short taxi ride (it was getting too late to walk, Steve insisted, and paid for it) it had given him too much time to think. But he was still a little hard in his jeans, with just the memory of Billy’s erection grazing his own, and the thought made him ache with need.

But they couldn’t just – couldn’t just fuck. Right? Steve didn’t think so, anyways. It would be too easy to hurt Billy’s ribs, and even a blowjob might prove too much. Steve definitely wasn’t sticking his cock in Billy’s mouth, fuck that – he’d never forgive himself if it was his fault Billy talked like his throat was made of sandpaper for the next week. He kind of considered maybe just – maybe just giving each other hand jobs, but he’d already gotten himself too worked up over the other stuff, so he didn’t want to at all. 

Steve closed the door behind them with a click, something heavy with anxiety laying over his shoulders, but he’d been so close to the edge of coming at the club that he really, really still needed to. His gaze flicked towards the bathroom door. 

***

Billy thought—knew Steve was acting weird the second they got into the cab. He’d thought it was kind of sweet to get them one instead of walking back, but the entire short ride Steve hadn’t said anything. It was possible Steve was just being careful around the stranger driving them but—he’d picked them up in fucking Boystown and Billy had glitter in his hair. Talking to him wouldn’t have been a big deal. 

The walk up to the room was quiet too and Billy watched a line of tension build across Steve’s shoulders as he followed him, eyebrows knitted together. He tried to push the concern away and not let himself catastrophize, just followed him right into their room, up close once they got inside. 

“Hi,” he said softly, just barely above a whisper. His hands moved for Steve’s shirt again, this time slowly trying to inch it up from the bottom, neck craning forward to make their lips meet. “Steve.”

***

Steve tensed a little as he felt Billy’s knuckles brush his skin, easing the hem of his polo up – breath catching in his throat. As their lips met, something desperate vibrated in Steve’s chest, because all he wanted was to kiss Billy silly – and he knew that he should probably just TALK to him, you know, like a sane person and tell him that he didn’t want to hurt him. Not by kissing, and not by fucking – he didn’t want to make him feel like Steve didn’t want it. He did. 

But he knew that once he brought it up – he just knew that light would leave Billy’s eyes, that happy light he’d had all night, that was so rare anymore, and he didn’t want to snub it out. And he just knew it would. Steve slid away from Billy’s touch, from his lips. 

“I – I’m gonna shower. I need to take a shower.” Steve mumbled, shaking his head and made a beeline for the bathroom. 

Shutting the door behind him, leaning against it, breathing hard and rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit,” he whispered to himself. He wanted Billy so much it actually was starting to hurt him. He felt like he was gonna explode. The way Billy’d said his name, like a prayer, he...

***

Billy’s head was fucking spinning at how quickly the situation changed. Steve had bolted, actually bolted away from him. What happened in between the club and now? That frisson of hurt came back and dug in harder, the hotel room a lot bigger once he was left alone in it. He moved to the mirror he’d gotten ready in and examined himself, like maybe he’d—he didn’t know, maybe something weird had happened to his face, maybe Steve just didn’t want to embarrass him. 

But nothing looked any different. His curls were still big and his neck was still nice and unblemished. The glitter in his hair seemed kind of stupid now so he shook his head hard, tried to run his fingers through it to get some of it out. It didn’t do much so he reached into the duffel bag and yanked a few makeup wipes out, cleaning off his face and getting rid of the mascara. Maybe Steve didn’t like it—maybe it just looked better like this. He shrugged his jacket off and found a white shirt of Steve’s to slip on. The outfit had probably been—too much, or something. 

He was about to go for his neck when he heard a few things fall in the bathroom, head whipping toward the sound. He stood up, only half convinced he was going to check when something fell again. Then it was just a few quick steps to open the door, hand hesitating self consciously on the knob before twisting it open. 

***

His initial thought had maybe been a cold shower. But it wasn’t. It ended up warm, and the steam built up fast. Technically, hot. Really hot. 

But it was a strange shower – definitely not his shower at home, and the bottles that he’d set in there earlier were on the worst placed amenities shelf probably ever. It was a small shower, cramped – not the kind where it was a whole tub. And Steve’d been told he was all elbows.

Steve’s body, his brain, were absolutely overloaded from the club – like way overloaded. Full of Billy, hands in his back pockets, the way Billy’s cock fit perfectly against his, only touching in tandem – on chance and pure good luck and faith, and – it had felt like fire. Steve had his back against the wall of the shower, braced under the spray. Billy’d smelled so good, and looked so good, absolutely gorgeous, delicious, good enough to eat. Steve wanted to have sex with him so much. To fuck him. He wanted to make – make love with him, he tentatively let himself think. It was the first time he’d thought the phrase in like well over a year. He really wanted it with Billy. 

Steve got his hand around his cock, and it was already so hard just from mentally revisiting the pounding heat of the club, the pulse of Billy’s cock against his through too much fabric. He’d grabbed some of the lotion that was provided by the hotel, and he was already slick with it. Beauty marked chest heaving, sprawled back against the shower wall, swallowing hard as he visualized Billy as clearly as he could, the sparkle of his hair, the soft line of his nose, the pout of his mouth – oh god, he could even hear those little wanting whimpers in his ear if he focused enough. Steve’s mouth dropped open, jaw going lax. 

Pulling himself off to the pulse of the music Billy’d ground against him with, toes curling on the shower floor – letting out a broken sound that should be covered by the shower jet. His elbow slipped, the shampoo bottle fell off that damn shelf. Hit the floor. Steve jumped a little but he didn’t want to stop, he could feel the arousal building, he – shit, there went the conditioner. The Faberge Organics bottles spun around on the wet floor, and Steve was breathing hard, Billy behind his eyelids. Steve gasped, choking on that name, ‘Billy.’ Like in response to how Billy’d said his name just before. 

The door opened. He heard it. Steve’s eyes snapped open – he thought he’d fucking locked it. The hotel was fancier – one he’d stayed at with his parents before, so it was kind of ritzy, and the shower door was made to non-fog. Steve froze where he was, all loose limbed, blinking water out of his eyes, hair slicked back over his scalp – still breathing hard, looking totally wrecked against the shower wall – that hard dick still in his hand, just shy of the spray of water. Red at the tip, and red in the face with the heat and arousal. Mouth still lax, pupils blown so wide his eyes were almost black with it. Staring right at Billy.

***

Up until recently, Billy could say without a doubt he had absolutely no sense of embarrassment. Self preservation, maybe, but it was damn near impossible to get him uncomfortable. So that wasn’t really what he felt, seeing Steve with his back pressed against the shower tile. The dick his mouth had been watering over just an hour ago in one large, well memorized hand. The look on Steve’s face, caught somewhere between arousal and surprise. 

He felt hurt, he registered that first. He wondered briefly what Steve might’ve been thinking of before he’d come in, if he’d seen someone at the club, pictured them instead. It was a stupid thought but he couldn’t shake it. 

The more prominent feeling, the one that got him stepping closer to the shower, was want. He wanted so badly that it trumped the self consciousness and the hurt, gave way to something desperate, had him shucking off all of his clothing and moving right into the spray. 

“Let me,” he said, voice just on the edge of pleading, his expression well fucking beyond it, one hand tentatively resting on Steve’s forearm. “Please, please just let me.”

***

Steve wasn’t sure – what he felt, standing there. It was bordering on embarrassment, somewhere in the realm of shame for getting himself off, even if guys talked about jacking off like it was nothing. And it wasn’t like Billy hadn’t seen it before. But there was just something about being caught with your dick in your hand.

The second Billy started walking towards him, Steve dropped it like he’d been burned, pulling his hands to his sides, fingers curling up, a little unsure. But the sight of Billy was making his mouth water – the source of what he really wanted, truly. Far more than his own hand, which was only to take care of himself in a pinch. 

His cock bobbed hard, heavy, and angry between his legs – not exactly forgotten, but certainly not being touched anymore. Steve’s mouth finally snapped closed as he canted his chin down a little, eyeing Billy as he lay weakly against the tiles, his knees already shivery from pleasure, not wanting to hold him up. 

He saw the hurt on Billy’s face – it was one of the first things he registered, really, wondered if he would be mad at Steve – he hadn’t meant for it to happen, not really, it was going to be a cold shower…Steve swallowed tightly, those pupil dark eyes going wide as Billy threw his clothes away and stepped into the spray with him. 

Looking like some fucking gorgeous greek god with all of that muscle, straight lines, and golden skin – his cock twitched just at the sight of his lover - but with – with fading, yellow and green tinged bruises around his ribs, and just below his breastbone. Steve’s eyes slipped closed. Couldn’t look. 

When he opened them again, the spray was rinsing away the foundation, exposing the gnarly marks of handprints too. Those, too, were fading, But still vivid with violence. A memory. 

Steve didn’t know what he was expecting Billy to do, to say, but when that rough, callused palm rested against his forearm, the hairs on his arm stood at attention, right on end, hungry, so hungry for his touch. He had goosebumps. 

Then he was nodding, nodding, before he knew what he was doing – it wasn’t like before, it wasn’t like on the dancefloor or in the taxi or coming up the stairs, or standing by the hotel room door when he could say no and he could put it off – he wasn’t some mindless animal, but, his dick almost hurt now that he wasn’t touching it, pulsing and needy to release, and Billy was practically begging him – and Jesus God, Steve wanted him so much, so much. 

He thought if he was a better man he could have said no. 

“Yes. Please. Please god, oh my god please – please, Billy, please.” Steve gasped into the spray, hips squirming a little with impatience as he reached out to desperately latch onto the other boy’s shoulders. “W-want your hands on me, please, please. I’m sorry – I’m sorry - ” 

***

Billy shook his head at Steve’s apology, trying to wipe it out of Steve’s mind by moving closer, pressing him back into the tile. The other boy had avoided kissing him, really kissing him before so he didn’t push even though he wanted to. He’d take what he could get after everything, would touch any part of Steve he could reach. 

Now it was finally all in front of him and he almost didn’t know where to start. He leaned into Steve’s neck, nosing it gently even as his hand picked up where Steve’s had left off, stroking his cock at a pace just as quick as before. The hard, impossibly soft skin under his hand made him sigh into Steve’s ear, his other hand moving up to cradle the side of Steve’s head. 

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he asked, voice carrying above the spray as he thumbed the head of Steve’s cock, slick under his hand. “You all worked up?”

***

Steve was hungry for Billy’s hands on him, so, so hungry – he felt like he’d been starving for that touch and now he couldn’t get enough. All of the tension all of the stress that had been building up in his body, making him coil up tight, seemed to loosen just enough at that touch to make him dizzy. He leaned his head into Billy’s hand at the side of his head, letting that palm hold the weight of it, because it’d felt so heavy lately. Exposing more of his neck for Billy’s nose, for his mouth, hopefully. When he finally got that rough, squared off hand around hiscock, a sound jumped out of Steve’s chest that he couldn’t really describe – somewhere between a sob and an exclamation. 

And that sultry voice, breathing in his ear, drove him absolutely crazy, squirming against the tiles. He was hanging onto Billy’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer, closer, needing him closer, dammit, as close as he could get, but also mindful of his throat, and – 

Steve whimpered as Billy quickly picked up the pace to the one Steve had set before, but Jesus, it was so much BETTER because it was Billy’s hand, not Steve’s, and he felt like he was going to come out of his skin – he’d been so worked up since the club, honestly. 

“Mhm,” He choked in a broken sound. “F-feels good.” His hips were mindlessly following the pull of Billy’s hand, eyes rolling up a little as he rocked up onto his toes. When he thumbed at the sensitive head, a lewd sound rattled out of Steve’s chest. “Oh….f-f…uh….yeah….Billy, baby - d-don’t stop.” 

Steve’s hips were stuttering, chasing his pleasure, his head nodding confirmation against Billy’s hand. “Since, since the club.” He gasped, voice raw with pleasure. “God you looked – looked so good, you looked so good, smelled so good. Just l-love you so much.” He let out a little whimper at a particularly good stroke of Billy’s perfectly callused fingertips, boneless against the shower wall. “Want you, want you.” 

He realized that his chin was trembling a little, just a little, and his nose felt pink from more than the steam, something sharp pricking behind his eyes. His voice wobbled now, as he dug blunt nails against Billy’s shoulders. “Missed you. God I, I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I know I sh-shouldn’t, but I - ” Another aborted, broken moan, or maybe a sob. 

***

“Not gonna stop, won’t stop,” Billy said reassuringly, thumb moving over Steve’s cheek. He nipped a little at the new skin on display, soothing the sting with hot lips and tongue, holding his head in place. 

Steve sounded like—Steve wanted him, he really wanted him. His voice got less and less steady and at first Billy thought it must be because of the gentle mark he was working on leaving near his collarbone. But it kept going, and then Steve was—apologizing? Apologizing for missing him?

He pulled his head back to look at Steve, concern written all over his face. His hand didn’t stop moving over his cock, just slowed a bit, a careful bit of pressure here and there to keep him satisfied. What he saw there was something like sadness, something like guilt. 

“You—you should, I thought,” he started quickly, shaking his head like he had at the apology, eyes darting from Steve’s full lips to the suspicious brightness in his eyes. “I thought you didn’t want me, you didn’t like it. That why you won’t kiss me? You think you shouldn’t? I—miss you all the time. All the time.”

***

As Billy’s hand started to slow, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Burning. Him and his big mouth. He trembled under Billy’s hands with want, just wanting those hands on him – the mark completed against his collarbone, dark enough to last. He blinked at the look Billy was giving him, sniffing and looked away, before they came back to those bright blue eyes – magnetized by what he’d said. 

“Not – not want you? No I – I want you, I want you…so much.” Steve’s cock gave a hard pulse in Billy’s fist. “I like it.” He laughed weakly, wet at the edges with choked down tears, at the concept of not liking it with Billy. “Love it. I just – “

Steve sniffed and his eyes slid closed, lashes trembling, a line of concern forming between his brows. Jesus he didn’t know why he was saying these things, they just came tumbling out. 

“I don’t – I don’t want to hurt you. Even, even, kissing, because of your throat, your tongue, I – it could hurt you, I don’t…” Steve whimpered a little, his orgasm edging back from where it’d been close to the line. “Thought, if I said it…. I didn’t…didn’t wanna remind you.”

Steve drew a hand away from Billy’s shoulder to cover his own face, ducking his eyes behind the cover of his fingers where they braced on his forehead. 

“I - none of this, would be...expected, not after - what you went through...you shouldn’t, shouldn't feel like you have to…” 

***

Both of Billy’s hands moved to Steve’s face, gently trying to move the hand Steve was using to cover his eyes. He tilted his head down to find Steve’s eyes, face still fraught with confusion and now concern. I could hurt you. 

He thought about the party he’d rescued Steve from months ago, the quiet confession he’d been sure Steve wouldn’t remember. Now he was starting to think Steve had remembered it, had logged it away. I’d save you. It put something warm right in his center, tinged with sadness but so, so fond. 

“I don’t. I don’t feel like I have to,” he said softly, hands framing Steve’s face, trying to prop his head up. “The first few weeks I didn’t want to, but—I’m back on the court on Monday, I’m mostly healed up. You’re not gonna hurt me by kissing me, sweetheart.”

His own arousal from walking in on Steve had flagged a bit but the hurt from before was less present, washed away by the thought of Steve worrying, working himself up into this. Sad and concerned, hiding how much he wanted Billy so that he didn’t think—

“I didn’t know, I thought you just didn’t—want me,” he said, expression crumpling a bit, eyes stinging to match Steve’s. “That I was too fucked up now, felt like—an injured bird, like you were just—please tell me that’s not what you see.”

***

Steve let Billy move his hand away from where it shadowed his face, instead tangling their fingers up together, where he held them close to his cheek – framing Steve’s face on either side. Steve’s face looked a little desperate, and a little stubborn as he said, “But – but I see, the way you – you sort of wince, sometimes, if you move wrong, and after last night, your throat was…” When he’d screamed himself hoarse again. 

And Steve didn’t want to go into the territory of what had happened at the club - that freeze frame image in his mind of still lips against his - dying. 

Steve didn’t believe the ‘mostly healed up,’ not really. It wasn’t all the way. It wasn’t being okay again. ’Steve’s other hand pulled back to wrap around Billy’s wrist, large enough to completely encapsulate it, fingers to thumb. Just gently holding onto him, like he needed the anchor to keep him in place.

“I always – always want you. Always. But if you’re hurt – “

Steve swallowed, sniffling and tightening one hand around that wrist, twisting his finger’s up a little bit more where they interlocked with Billy’s. 

“I wanted to give you time, give you space – just wanted to help take care of you, I didn’t expect anything else – “ Steve shook his head, feeling kind of frustrated, and it was reflected in the dip of his mouth, the line of his brow. “I don’t see you as some, some injured bird – you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He didn’t mean just physically. “I’ve just been - worried.” 

***

“I know you didn’t expect anything, I know that,” Billy said, trying to be reassuring with his words, with his fingers squeezing Steve’s. “It’s okay—that you’re worried, that’s okay. But I’m gonna be okay, yeah? You’ve helped so much, but you don’t have to carry it around all the time.”

He looked over Steve’s face and wanted to erase that sadness, all of the concern and the stress. He wanted to kiss it right out of him, open him up, give him the chance to let go. But he still looked like he was holding on to it and Billy wasn’t sure how to help, leaned forward to press a slow kiss against Steve’s cheek like it might do something. 

***

Steve chewed on the inside of his lip, thinking, and he shivered when Billy impressed a lasting kiss against his cheek. He was almost half soft now, despite the heat of the shower and having been close before – wilting under guilt and stress and the talk of heavy things. You don’t have to carry it around all the time. But he felt like he was.

He didn’t want to say it, didn’t really mean to say it, but his mouth was such a traitor – even though he didn’t want to make Billy feel like, in any way, it was his fault. Because none of it was. And Steve knew that he had a thing about feeling like he was always at fault about stuff. It had taken them a month, on the brink of Billy finally being healed, for Steve to actually say it – to say any of this. Despite taking care of him and watching after him all month, he’d skirted the topic verbally entirely, really. 

“I – kissing you, you…” Steve started, unsure, shifting on his feet. He automatically tipped forward, needing more skin to skin contact, until his forehead was resting against Billy’s, chest to chest. Dripping water and from the tips of his hair – mouth screwed up like he’d just bit into a lemon. He thought his tears would be made invisible by the water splashing over them, trying to remember to breathe. Tripping over his words. 

“Billy, you almost died. You weren’t, you weren’t breathing, and I – I don’t know how much you remember, but I…your mouth was so still, you were so still – like you were gone - “ his voice broke, clinging onto Billy’s wrist, his fingers, like he might go away.

***

Billy froze, not just because of how heartbroken Steve sounded, but—he’d thought maybe he hadn’t heard it right. He’d figured that trauma made the event itself hard to pin down completely, the way it came in bits and pieces and then sometimes in fucking terrible chunks of memory. He could remember gasping and hitting someone, if he tried really hard. 

“I hit you,” he said, his own face twisting up in something like guilt. Not completely, but the thought of all of the things that might’ve happened that he’d forgotten, might never remember—they stuck with Steve. “I’m so sorry, I’m here. I’m not gone.”

***

Steve blinked pink rimmed eyes, his brows lifting in little arches of surprise, and he was shaking his head, shaking his head ‘no!’ because that seriously – seriously wasn’t what his point had been in telling him, he, he didn’t know what the point had been, really, but not that. Just to let Billy know – it was lingering, the back of his mind. An unwanted guest. The awful lump in his throat made it hard to talk around, and it seemed to grow like a tumor at the look of guilt that washed over Billy’s beautiful, damp face. 

“No, no no – it’s okay – that – that’s not, not the point. You were scared, and Jesus, I was so glad you hit me. It meant you were there, and you weren’t so – “ Still. Still, still, still. Like a corpse. Like Will Byers’ fake body when they’d drug him out of that water, blue lipped. Steve swallowed the word down, he couldn’t say it again. “You could’ve hit me so much and I wouldn’t have cared.” 

***

Billy wanted to say he was sorry again, say it over and over until the word didn’t sound like anything at all. He realized then that maybe his guilt was misplaced, that he was really feeling guilty over not doing anything once his father’s hand had closed around his neck. He’d played possum like Neil used to say, like Neil would never say to him again, locked away in some cell and probably for good if Steve’s father had any say in it. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk to Steve about but he thought in this case it might be okay, that that was why Steve had pushed him to talk to Bea. Maybe that’s what she was for now, the things that scared him too much to say to anyone else. 

“Come on, let’s get into bed,” he whispered instead of an apology, instead of entertaining the vicious whirlpool of thoughts in his head. “You’ll feel better, come on sweetheart.”

He reluctantly took his hands off of Steve’s face to turn the water off, opening the shower door and wrapping Steve tightly in a towel from under his arms down. It made him smile, the stupid makeshift cotton dress he sometimes did to himself, funnier on Steve’s long frame. Then he reached for two of his own, wrapping his curls up in a knot on top of his head to keep them from being too crazy, haphazardly drying his body off and leaving that towel in the bathroom. 

“Here, let’s lay down,” he said, even if it didn’t really need saying, peeling the blankets back and ushering Steve into them. He undid the knot on his head and ruffled his curls a few more times before discarding the towel on the floor, crawling into the bed and bringing his hands back to where he’d left them in the shower. “I’m not—still, see? Can’t keep me still, just like always.”

***

As he got into the bed, Steve undid the towel wrapped around himself, using it to briefly towel off his hair – enough to get the worst of the water and make his hair stand on end, before he brushed it back with one hand. Getting it out of his eyes. Steve lay on the bed, watching Billy with appreciative, but serious dark chocolate eyes, biting at his lower lip. 

Watching him crawl over the mattress towards Steve like some kind of a panther, all sinew and muscle and grace. Still bright with the shower, almost sort of glistening, even though he’d mostly toweled off. Steve reached for him, feeling too exposed and like too much, and Jesus he thought maybe he was a little more fucked up than he’d thought, but – but it wasn’t really far because all of it had happened TO Billy, and what right did Steve have to feel bad? 

But all he wanted was Billy, he craved Billy’s hands on him again, to get his hands on Billy. Starved for his touch, and to touch him in return. Billy wasn’t still, and Steve knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel like he might be fragile still – he didn’t want him to stop breathing, or to even be in pain, not ever again. 

His grabby hands finally got onto Billy’s shoulders, smoothing over them and tugging him close, looping his arms around his neck. Trying to brush their noses together – but Steve winced a little, his nose still a little sore, before he leaned up, shoulder blades lifting off the mattress. He brushed his lips feather light against Billy’s. “Touch me?” He asked breathlessly, his voice still a little wrecked, eyes still pink at the lashline. Searching Billy’s. “Please, please touch me.”

***

Billy nodded, knew he didn’t need to give it even a second of thought. He’d do just about anything Steve asked of him at this point. Those big brown eyes, still tinged with sadness, sealed it for him. He kept Steve’s face in his hands and nodded again, pressing forward to make their lips meet. Not something fleeting or chaste but slow, as desperate as Steve had sounded. 

He let Steve pull him down and moved to tangle their legs together, not sure what to do with himself for one quick, alarming moment. Steve wanted him to touch him and he’d missed it, all that warm skin under his fingers. One hand moved from Steve’s cheek, winding a slow path, memorizing planes of muscle and soft skin all over again, back bowed as he hovered over the other boy. Wanted to ask like that? but couldn’t imagine the kiss breaking, not now that he had it. 

***

Steve leaned eagerly into the kiss, feeling a sure kind of desperation at his heels – Billy told him it was okay, that he was okay, he wasn’t still, he was alive and breathing and well and he wasn’t breakable – he was warm and so broad above Steve, full of life, brimming with it, and for the first time in a long time Steve didn’t let himself look at the bruises. He just took in the fine painting of Billy Hargrove, an absolute piece of art – a masterpiece that he got to enjoy all the time. Steve’s hips knocked askew, thighs butterflying out to let Billy get as close as possible, still trying to pull him as flush as he could. 

And Billy’s hands were tracing over his stomach, his chest, hot and vibrant. Raising goosebumps wherever his fingertips wandered. Steve focused on the kiss, eyes closing – their first real kiss, first true one, in weeks, if you didn’t count the club. It was all molten fire, like low lying lava, moving as slow as magma – shifting tectonic plates, all lazy movement and hungry passion. Billy’s tongue clashed with his, a tangle of muscle with Steve’s, and Steve moaned low into the kiss. It felt like coming home after an exhausting day. Home.

He forgot to practically even breathe through his nose, he was so engrossed in the workings of Billy’s jaw. He didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to feel Billy against him. He rolled his body up in a wave against Billy’s, undulating from the hips upwards. 

With the hand that was still at the side of Steve’s face, Steve caught it, interlacing their fingers neatly - bringing their held hands down rest against the pillow. Squeezing tight.

“Y-you’re sure?” He asked, more like breathed, into Billy’s mouth, reluctantly opening his eyes just a crack. 

***

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Billy hummed, the sound hitching at another roll of Steve’s hips, fingers squeezing Steve’s hand against the bed. “I’m alright.”

His eyes fluttered closed again and it hoped it was enough, hoped Steve believed him enough not to stop him. He moved into the space Steve’s body opened up for him, free hand closing on one long thigh, pulling it up and close, his own knees spreading to keep Steve’s legs hung over his. It was about as close as he’d been able to get in weeks and he’d almost forgotten how good it felt. How perfectly their bodies fit together, how their moans complimented each other. 

“Love you, missed you,” he sighed, fingers moving high up Steve’s thigh, holding on tight and rolling their hips together. The hard cock that brushed his made him shudder, exhale roughly as he pushed harder into the kiss, bruising and slow. 

***

Steve kept that one hand hanging onto Billy’s, while the other wandered south – gliding along the damp skin of his back, playing along the arch of his spine, until he could sooth his fingers over one globe of that perfect ass. Kneading into it for a good grip, and sipping the sounds from Billy’s mouth, all moans and soft sighs. 

He took Billy at his word – that he was okay, because he needed to. Needed to believe him, and needed all of this, more than he could have said. So he let his body do the talking instead.

Where Billy lay along him, perfectly skin to skin, Steve relished the warmth of him. It felt akin to laying in sunshine, lighting him up with heat, and when Billy grasped the jut of Steve’s hipbone to roll their hips together, Steve let out a needy gasp. Their erections grazed like total lightning rods of sensation – sending zaps of electricity over Steve’s entire fucking body, making him shiver beneath Billy – trying to mimic the movement, driving back up, trying to get their cocks to touch again. Clenching their fingers together. He used the hand on Billy’s ass to try and pull them closer together, never close enough. His breath hitched.

“Love you, – “ Steve murmured back, parroting him, eyes heavy and voice husky now. “Missed you. Sorry if I worried too much, I didn’t mean to make you – think I didn’t. Want you. Never wanted anyone more’n you. You’re perfect.” 

He hummed into the kiss as Billy rejoined their mouths, his lips already feeling flushed pink and swollen with kisses, hungrily accepting everything Billy was giving him. Now that they’d gotten positioned, Steve found he could easily rut up against Billy’s dick now, making contact with almost every sweep of his hips, and it was making his cock jump. His heart thunder. Shivering in delight at each pass, all slow and aching and dizzy, nothing rushed about it. Savoring each touch. 

***

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. 

The word rang in Billy’s head like a fucking church bell, the hand on his ass making him feel kept, wanted like Steve had said. It seemed stupid now that he’d ever thought anything different with Steve spread out in front of him, those soft and sweet sounds muffled by their tongues meeting. 

He kept his eyes closed but he could feel the lights of the room behind his eyelids, all of the lamps he’d turned on when Steve had gone into the bathroom. Steve didn’t like the dark, liked to be able to see everything, every little corner where something might be hiding. He loved Steve, loved him and realized he did all of these tiny things with him in mind all the time. That they both did. 

“Pretty?” he asked, knowing Steve would give him the response he wanted. He trusted Steve to keep his legs where he wanted them and moved his hand between them, precome smeared across both of their cocks, fingers wrapping around them with a harder thrust forward. 

***

“So pretty. Pretty, beautiful – gorgeous. Handsome. – you’re all of them.” Steve gasped back at him. “I don’t – don’t know the word for what you are, baby. More than all that. You’re more.” 

His mouth dropped open, going a little lax against Billy’s lips as he felt that strong, firm hand wrap around the both of their cocks. Stroking them together, both slick with pre-come, and it was absolutely electric - especially after a months long drought, and confusingly empty wet dreams. Nothing but disappointing showers. 

He was overwhelmed with the boy he loved above him, the hands all over him, at his hip, on both of their cocks, sliding them together with pre-come to smooth the way. Steve knew immediately it wouldn’t take long, he’d been close to the edge at the club, and again in the shower. So now it only really took two good firm pumps of Billy’s hand – along with the very specific sensation of Billy’s cock pulsing against his, almost thrumming – and he was a goner. He didn’t even have any warning.

Steve’s head rocked back on his neck, breaking the kiss as his eyes rolled up a little, dark lashes fluttering. His thighs were still spread wide as his toes curled into the mattress, body going rigid. It was sudden, almost instant. It was pressure building and then flooding out of him, all the tension and stress melting away in that second as he let out a sharp moan. Moaning ‘Billy.’ His hips arched up on their own as he froze up into the orgasm, flurries of sparks sweeping his skin. Back arching up almost all the way off the bed, fingers digging into Billy’s ass. 

***

Billy felt Steve moving up and didn’t hesitate to separate their hands to push him back down. He did it because he needed to see it, see exactly what Steve looked like because of him, make sure it wasn’t going anywhere. The way Steve’s big, sweet eyes screwed up and his pouty mouth parted, that borderline miserable look on his face when he came and how untethered he looked after. Because of him, because Steve loved him. 

His hand slid from the center of Steve’s chest, moving under his back to keep him close, letting some of his weight fall on top of him as he chased his own pleasure. He left Steve’s cock to soften between them but didn’t stop touching himself, watching the flush slowly retreat from Steve’s freckled chest, whining because it felt so good but it would be over so soon. 

He took in a few heaving, gasping breaths as he came, looking down at Steve like he might be able to tell him you’re not going to fall apart, you won’t crumble into a million pieces because his orgasm felt too much like falling. All of the insecurity he’d built up in the past month left him in a flood and he whined miserably at the loss of it, the sort of overwhelming sadness you got hearing a high note resolve itself, or seeing some miracle of fucking nature. 

***

Somehow, the hand splayed over his chest, holding him down through the wave of his orgasm, like an anchor grounding him to planet earth – the way Billy watched him with this all-seeing look – well, it all seemed to make it that much more intense. Had his toes curling that much tighter, his breath climbing that much faster. With his stomach sticky with the proof of his pleasure, cock softening, Steve’s mouth dropped open as he watched Billy above him. With something like awe, and something like worship. 

Those damp golden curls draping along the curve of his jawline, trembling with the force of his orgasm. Steve gasped up at him, pressing the flat of his hand against the plane of Billy’s stomach – feeling the way his muscles clenched up with pleasure, with ecstasy. Their other hands still clasped tight. Jesus god he’d missed seeing Billy like this – he way he looked entirely wrecked, open, exalted with letting everything go at once. Those dark, serious brows lifted, mouth loose, the way his nostrils flared up, then pinched, while he gasped for breath. As Billy whined, this broken, lost sound – like the resolving sound of a bell ringing – it just hit him, for maybe the thousandth time, how much Steve loved him. He really, really loved him, and he’d missed this, and he’d missed Billy, and more than anything he just – wanted to be in him. He wanted that connection, their bodies interlocked, like – like being a part of each other. Where it was questionable where one person began and the other ended. 

He was pulling Billy back down to him, fingers skating over his chest, up his spine, to tangle up into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Love you, love you,” He breathed against Billy’s mouth, before his tongue darted out to flick at his lover’s upper lip. “Want you.. You’re so – so pretty, I – “ Steve swallowed, throat working as he twisted his hips a little on the sheets, wrapping his legs around Billy’s hips. Tugging them together, pelvis to pelvis, guided by the heels pressing into Billy’s lower back – gently, so as not to disturb his ribs. 

“Did I ever tell you – “ He was still trying to catch his breath, took a second to pause. “About that song – that song that was playing the first day you drove up at school?” 

***

Billy separated their hands, moved his elbows on either side of Steve’s ribs to let himself sink down against Steve’s chest. He shuddered a few more times even once his orgasm had faded, letting Steve’s limbs pull him in closer, like they’d never be quite close enough. For all that he’d asserted that he wasn’t delicate, that he was fine—he still was, but he felt as fragile as an eggshell, somewhere deep down like this. 

He pressed his face into Steve’s chest and wrapped his arms under Steve’s back with a squeeze, sighing in relief at the contact. That long awaited, perfect, sticky contact. At Steve’s question he shook his head, nuzzling into freckled skin, running his lips idly over it. 

“No, what was it?” he asked, voice muffled, fingers splayed wide across Steve’s spine. 

***

Steve splayed out loose beneath Billy’s steady, comforting weight, with only his thighs held up, looped around that sturdy waist - ankles locked above his tailbone. He felt a little sloshed with the power of an orgasm, blissed out with the aftershocks, and with the way Billy was touching almost every inch of him. All hot, somewhat damp skin pressed together. The way he liked it best. And he felt...well, it was a relief.

He hummed a little, chest vibrating beneath Billy’s lips as he lazily mouthed against Steve’s skin there. He slipped his arms up around Billy’s chest, spreading his fingers, palms, and lifelines flat against Billy’s shoulder blades to keep him close – as close as he could. Nestling his nose into the curls above Billy’s ear, pressing a kiss against his temple. 

“You were playing – Rock you like a Hurricane. It was so loud I think everybody in the parking lot heard it.” He said, idly remembering as he traced small circles into the soft skin of Billy’s back. “And, I always remembered that…” His eyes slipped closed as he breathed in the scent of Billy, smiling just a little as he caught bits of glitter still sparkling in some of the curls before him.

“You’re always so, full of life – like a hurricane, I guess, all – all energy and fire and passion and you never let anything stand in your way, and you’re always moving – I’ve always…admired it about you.” He tightened the arms around Billy just a little more, huffing out a soft sigh into those slow-drying curls. Blinking away a few remaining, stubborn tears - smile fading. “I…I never want to see you still again. Not, not like that.” 

***

Billy grinned into Steve’s chest at the memory suddenly coming back to him. Seeing the barest glimpse of Steve for the first time but discounting it after he’d seen Nancy with her arms on top of the Beamer, sighing to himself because of course Hawkins was going to be just as small town as he’d been picturing it. Hearing the girls comment on his ass for the first but certainly not the last time, stomping around that first day. 

Not knowing that he was wrong, that he could’ve kept looking at Steve. That there might’ve been some chance to do just this before he turned everything to shit for a few months. 

He lifted his head at the sound of Steve’s voice taking on a different tone, less steady. What he found there made him frown in kind, dislodging a hand from under Steve’s back and running it over Steve’s eyes, like it might take the tears back completely. 

“Not still,” he affirmed, leaning forward just enough to capture Steve’s mouth in a kiss, slow and hard and not quite enough. He shook his head against Steve’s and heard his voice take on a lilt of its own, the thing they were both so afraid of. “Right here, still here.”

***

Steve leaned up into the kiss, just a little, just enough to feel his lips ache in that really good way, their tongues brushing half way between. “Mm – I know – “ Steve sighed into his mouth. “I just – don’t go anywhere.” Steve’s nose rubbed against Billy’s, as he blinked, lashes fluttering against his fingertips where they banished any of the traitorous tears. Another thing that had lingered with him – that stayed with him – was the fact that Billy had just…he hadn’t done anything. 

He hadn’t fought back. Hell, he hadn’t even screamed, said anything, he just….dropped. Limp as a rag doll. Just let it happen. And like, Steve knew – knew what it was like with a dick for a dad, but in no way was it like Neil – Steve’s dad wouldn’t hurt him. But if he DID, Steve thought, if his life was on the line…he would have done something. He still didn’t understand why Billy…hadn’t. 

***

“I’m not, sweetheart, what do you mean?” Billy asked, pulling away just enough to lock eyes properly, fingers still moving over Steve’s face. “I’m not gonna go anywhere, I’m here.”

He felt like they were caught in some bubble together, where intimacy and unfathomably huge emotions all pooled into each other. A few months ago Billy couldn’t have imagined being able to feel like this with anyone, vulnerable and scared and happy and grateful and not worried. Not worried about being shoved out of the bed but about the look on Steve’s face, all that concern for something he couldn’t place. 

***

“But you…” Steve shifted a little under Billy – his legs were getting tired. So he let them come down to rest on either side of him, where Billy fit perfectly between the V of his thighs – tucking his toes under Billy’s shins, against the mattress. 

He…didn’t really know how to articulate it any more than that, beyond, ‘don’t go.’ 

Neil was in jail, Neil was gone, he wasn’t coming back, but – but things happen. If there was one thing Steve knew, it was that things happened. Unexpected things the most. And with his luck, you know, the apocalypse would happen and Neil would break out of jail and come murder Billy. 

Things happened. 

And it wasn’t just Neil, really – it was the remainder of Neil, his phantom, the one that seemed to be left in Billy’s head. Quotes that Billy had brought up in passing, like about, about putting him out of his misery – about him being born wrong. And it was about this spiral into some kind of, pit of sadness that he’d seen Billy descend into…and he was gonna talk to Auntie Bea now, and hopefully it would be okay. Steve didn’t know that he should actually say it. Shouldn’t bring it up. That’s what talking to Auntie Bea was for, not Steve – Steve might, might say the wrong thing, might botch it up, he was awful with words. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, or offend Billy. 

“I just mean, if anything happened – if anything happened, I want you here with me. When it, when he…” Steve swallowed again, throat clicking – wondering if he should have shut up like five minutes ago. “Why didn’t you fight back?” He whispered, dark eyes searching Billy’s azure ones. 

***

Billy went still in Steve’s arms, just a split second of a thing. If it weren’t for the fact that they’d just come together or the fact that he was mostly fresh out of the shower he would’ve sworn he broke out in a cold sweat. He hadn’t thought about it, not really. Definitely hadn’t thought about what it looked like to anyone else, to Steve. 

“I j—“

He had to pause to keep his breathing even, eyes welling up in the snap of a finger, something like shame, like regret on his face. If he told Steve why he might not look at him the same, he might not—but Steve loved him. Steve had seen enough of him already. 

“I can’t fight him, can’t fight my father,” he managed, the words slowly losing their grip on him, muddied with tears. “I did when I was little once or twice and it—I couldn’t. I believed him, what he said that day. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, that he could’ve been right. That all of these horrible things were happening because I was there, like if I wasn’t—I just let him. I always just let him.”

***

As tears welled up in Billy’s winter blue eyes, Steve instantly regretted asking – he shouldn’t have asked, but he leaned up to gently kiss the tears away as they started to fall – some spilling down Billy’s cheeks, or dripping down onto Steve’s. But he went still for a second at what he said – when he said he’d believed him. That he could’ve been right. Like if he wasn’t….what? Alive?

Something inside of Steve’s chest lurched then. And he didn’t regret asking so much, not now. He didn’t want to make Billy cry – but he felt like that was very, very important to know. Someone needed to know that besides Billy. Someone that loved him. And Steve loved him very much.

“What? Woah hey, hey no.” Steve pressed a last kiss into the crumpled space between Billy’s eyebrows, drawing a hand away from his back to swipe a thumb over his cheek. Soothing the tears, but Billy’s face was a mask of hurt, all crinkled up with old pain. 

Steve moved then – gently rolling them over – rolling them so that Billy was on his back, and Steve was against his side – lying lengthwise along him, his right leg tucked over Billy’s thighs – one hand on his chest, the other supporting the other side of his head, an arm wrapped beneath his shoulders. He nosed against Billy’s cheek, making soft shushy sounds and gazing down at him. 

“Neil wasn’t right. He was so far from being right, I’ve never heard anybody be more wrong about anything literally in my whole life. Your step-mom was right, something – something’s not okay with him, Billy. But that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. You’re, you’re one of the best people I know, and…” 

Steve stared at Billy openly, in earnest. He lay a soft kiss against Billy’s slightly contorted mouth, drawn tight in tears. 

“There are lots of people that like the same gender. They can’t all be wrong. There’s nothing wrong with loving someone. And I…” Steve flushed a little, his face still an open book as he gazed at Billy – trying to be as open and honest as he could in the face of that sharp hurt. An aftershock from a month ago. 

“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. Not ever. I didn’t…I didn’t know you could even love a person so much. And that’s what you deserve Billy – to be loved. Because you’re, you’re kind of the best. Ever. I mean, if you think – that if he could be right, about it being wrong – what about all those people at the club? That were so happy? Those nice guys at the bar? What about me?” 

***

What about me?

Billy shook his head in alarm, trying hard and failing to catch his breath. It was from crying but something else entirely. The way Steve was looking at him and the things he was saying to him. Loving him like it was easy, even if sometimes it seemed to Billy like the hardest thing in the world for someone to do. 

“I—my head, he fucked with my head,” he sobbed, blinking up at Steve like it was something he was really processing for the first time, the idea of Neil putting things in his mind. “It’s all fucked up and mixed together, like I’m—you’re not wrong, and no one else is. Because they’re good, because you’re good and I’m not. I’m not because he told me I wasn’t and I can’t—keep it all straight. It’s too much.”

***

“Of course you’re good, baby.” Steve murmured to him, leaning in to wrap both arms right around him now, hugging a quivering Billy to his chest, and lifting a hand up to the back of his head to stroke over his hair. Running his fingers over it again and again, as a lump formed in his throat again - the tumor was back. “He was lying. He’s a liar. I love you – you’re my best friend – and friends don’t lie. You’re good. So good.” 

Steve held Billy even tighter against him, wary of his ribcage, and keeping his touch very gentle at the back of his skull – he had a full catalogue of Billy’s old injuries to be minded. 

He leaned back just enough to press his mouth against Billy’s, capturing those trembling lips with his own - briefly licking over them like soothing a wound. “Don’t listen to him in your mind - just listen to me. I’ll say it a million times if you need me to. You’re good.” 

***

Billy nodded, some of the tension easing in him, some of the pain. His face crumpled a few more times, even against Steve’s perfect kiss but he found himself leaning up into it, just about starving for it. He lifted a shaking hand to the side of Steve’s neck and was grateful to be alive in that moment, grateful nothing had happened to Steve. That his neck hadn’t been touched, that he could still hear him speak and tell him things no one had ever said before. 

“Again,” he said softly, chasing forward for another kiss, voice still wavering but made just a little better by the embrace he was being held in. “Tell me again?”

***

Steve gave Billy what he was searching for – offered it freely, and with feeling – all of his feelings. He poured his love into the kiss that Billy sought after – lips to lips, his tongue dipping into the part of Billy’s lips to lick the very tips of their tongues together. Head tilting. Deepening it by widening his jaw, cheeks hollowing a little, as he swept his tongue even farther into Billy’s mouth. Deep enough that the fronts of their teeth clicked together, and they had to breathe through their noses, and the tendons of his throat grew pronounced – enough to make Billy breathless before he drew back just enough to say, “You’re good, baby. You’re so good.” 

Then he was sealing their mouths together again, holding Billy almost flush with him where he leaned over his more compact frame - all long, slender limbs. Holding his boy together in their embrace like a fragile vase that might fall apart into pieces if he let it.

“You’re good,” He huffed into the cavern of Billy’s mouth, tongue flicking against his, all pink muscle. 

***

Billy keened under Steve, chasing that elusive word, one he’d never heard with any seriousness until Steve. It turned him soft and pliant just like before everything happened, sweet and wanting in a way he felt right down to his bones. He curled in Steve’s embrace and felt small, though in a way that made him think that was okay, that that could be good too. 

He blinked sluggishly, straggling tears working their way down his cheeks, down to their lips. He tasted salt as he opened his mouth for the boy above him, both hands lifting to work their way into his still damp hair. Good had him longing to meet that word and what it meant, make sure he stayed that way for the person holding him together. 

***

Steve let Billy curl into him, and he took his weight, cradling him in his arms like he could support both of them – keep them both standing. He could taste his sadness and he could taste his tears and he thought maybe, maybe he could chase them away. Or, at least, let Billy feel them – and then maybe change them into something different. Something new. 

Like the transition from a chrysalis into a butterfly. New.

Steve rolled over just a little more until their positions from before were reversed – until he was gazing down at Billy, their mouths working together in tandem, his eyes sliding closed. 

He kept his arms wrapped around Billy’s back, one around his shoulders, the other secured around his waist, and he held him tight like that, didn’t let him go. 

And as those fingers carded through Steve’s brown, limp locks, he sighed against Billy’s mouth, nipping lightly at his lower lip. 

“Love you, Billy. You’re everything to me. Everything.” 

***

Billy nodded but not enough to move their lips too far from each other, not enough to dislodge them. He let out a soft sound, sob that felt a lot like relief. He was everything to someone. He was everything to someone who was everything to him. 

It was perfect in a way he never thought he’d get to have, never get to touch. 

He pushed forward for another kiss, one that was hungrier, more desperate. He curled his fingers into Steve’s hair to keep him close and parted his lips, searching for his tongue and moaning when he’d found it. His knees came up against Steve’s ribs, spreading himself out and inviting Steve in but it wasn’t enough. 

“Please, I want you,” he whined, sniffing harshly and looking up at Steve imploringly, letting Steve see the open sadness in his face, the hope there too. 

***

Steve swallowed Billy’s moan as their tongues slid together like slick fire, all heat, and that moan alone – and the way Billy’s tongue moved against his, sensuous and desperate, he was already hardening against Billy. Both of them were – he could feel it. Their erections brushing each other as Billy got his knees up around Steve’s ribs, making him groan at the sensation. 

When Billy looked up at him, asking for more, asking for Steve – he didn’t even need to ask, not really. Steve would give the world to Billy, it was unspoken. He was gazing up at him with these big, mournful blue eyes, like somehow Steve would say no – but he never would.

“Okay – yes, yes I want you, too.” Steve blinked, glancing around a little, disoriented in the hotel room and where the hell their clothes were – where Billy’s clothes were. But he didn’t want to disentangle himself from Billy, either, didn’t want to move. “Where’s your wallet?” He breathed, licking along Billy’s lower lip. 

***

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed at the question before he realized exactly why Steve was asking it, something a little lighter coming over his face before something a lot more heated took over. He opened his mouth to answer but Steve’s tongue was on his lip and he couldn’t help himself, tilting his head to urge Steve’s tongue inside. Arousal began its usual path from his gut out but this felt—different, more intense. 

He tried to think of where he’d been around the room before he’d changed, if he’d sat down at the bed at any point. It was a little hard to focus, too drawn to the way Steve’s cock was rubbing up against him, the precome smearing over his stomach from it and—

He flailed an arm out over the bed, blindly and lazily searching until his fingers caught on denim. Then he brought it up to the bed, setting it up against Steve so he could get both hands working again, one still in his hair while the other trailed between them to circle around Steve’s cock. 

***

Steve hadn’t really had the foresight to bring lube. They hadn’t done this in a month he hadn’t expected it to just magically happen in Chicago, for Billy to heal, even though normally he would have been all over a hotel room all to themselves. He would have been prepared, normally. 

But as he got his hands on the worn wallet in the jeans Billy offered to him, with a ‘thanks’ he slipped it open to find the familiar, trusty pack of lube that Billy always kept in there. Always prepared. For anything. 

Meanwhile, one of Billy’s hands was still in Steve’s hair, tangled up in the half dried locks, which was a huge turn on in general – but then, he got his other around Steve’s cock. He let out a shuddering breath, half moan and half sigh. His hips lifting a little into the touch, dick jumping at the touch. 

His fingers fumbled with the pack for a second as Billy messed with his two major hotspots – hair and cock, his best assets, he thought – and finally tore it open, wallet and denim discarded off the side of the bed. Free again, he finally leaned back in towards Billy eagerly – his mouth clashing with Billy’s once more, tongue hungrily chasing after his own, as if aching after their five second separation. Hair fraying wildly over his forehead. 

He was already drizzling the cold lube over his fingers, rubbing the pads of his fingers together to get it warmed up. Then he got a hand around Billy’s cock, a familiar, steady weight in his hand. He stroked up slowly from the base to the tip, like saying hello to an old friend, considering he hadn’t gotten to touch Billy earlier. He rubbed the tip of his thumb around the lip of the head, gliding along the underside, then up against the slit, urging more precome to bead at the tip. He swiped the pad of his thumb over it, in addition to the lube, to really give Billy a few more good strokes. 

Then he wandered farther south, fingertips tickling over his balls to dip his entire hand between Billy’s legs where they parted for him so beautifully. 

***

Billy thought it was funny, had thought it a few times when his mind was just about to be completely fogged up with arousal. Before Steve he’d been talkative during sex, extremely talkative. He never ran out of things to say and knew exactly what to say to get a man over the edge, get him to ease up, get him to go as hard as he could or do something he might’ve been uncomfortable with before. You’ve got a mouth on you was something he heard often, usually meant fondly, though sometimes it sounded impatient. 

He’d tried it once with Steve with poor results, that weekend where he’d been mourning his mother. He’d tried to step back into what he knew, how to make somebody happy. Steve had stopped them, got him to relax, do something for himself and shower instead. 

Do something for yourself. 

Like this he had nothing to say, every single word left him completely. All he could do was feel, no platitudes or lines to throw out, shield in front of himself. Now all that was left was raw nerves every time, soft whines and instant reactions, his whole body betraying him. He arched up into Steve’s hand and then dropped his hips, trying to get his fingers inside of him even if he knew that Steve wouldn’t until he wanted to. Even that thought made him shiver, his fingers curling tighter around Steve’s cock, moving a little faster. 

***

As Billy’s hips lowered, as if urging Steve’s fingers to move faster, Steve smiled gently at Billy and pressed a kiss to the edge of his mouth and then nosed along his cheek. Even as his hips were shaking a little with working to not rut into Billy’s fist, he whispered into his ear, "Hold onto me?” 

He knew Billy already had a hand in his hair, but he wanted to get the other around his shoulders, or even his back. Billy’s knees were bumping into the edges of his ribcage, and it made it easy to access his ass – lubed up, precome slick fingers ringing around the edge of his hole. Teasing. Waiting for Billy to grab onto him. 

With his free hand, he slid his palm up along Billy’s left pec, so he could tweak at one pebble hard nipple, with enough attention until it was dripping with lube, too. Drawing it up between forefinger and thumb – to help get Billy a little more worked up, and all the easier to break apart in all the ways Billy might need. Taking his time. Ready to make it slow and aching and hungry and sweet. 

***

“Uh huh,” Billy crooned, nodding and feeling like his head was barely attached. He let go of Steve’s cock, thumb digging into his frenulum one last time before he moved his hand in a slow path up Steve’s spine. “Uh huh, good?”

His head lolled back onto the bed as he looked up at Steve, expectant, hopeful again. Every small touch of Steve’s fingers over his hole had him sighing at their loss when they moved away. He scratched at Steve’s shoulder blades gently, hips moving down again and stuttering at the hand on his nipple. Steve really, really never forgot a hot spot. 

“Want you, I want you.”

***

“Mmh you’re good – you’re so good for me, baby.” Steve murmured into his ear, kissing at the square end of his jaw – before he came back to that pouty, needy mouth. Watching as that perfect, beautiful head rolled back against the pillow. Steve pinched firmly at his nipple as Billy’s blunt nails raked softly over his shoulder blades – jesus it felt good – and spurring him on with words of ‘want you’s.’ 

Steve’s middle finger slid past the rim of Billy’s hole with only a second of resistance. Easing in slow, giving the contracting muscles a second to relax before he moved forward again. Until he was up to his knuckle – worked back out, then back in. Especially from Billy’s attention, his cock was hanging between them, hot and aching, and he was more than happy to give Billy exactly what he wanted - soon. 

After getting Billy’s nipple to stand at full attention, he started to trail that hand lower – leaving a line of lube where his fingers traced until he got his hand back around Billy’s cock. 

Working the finger into Billy’s ass now, slowly rocking back out and in, getting some rhythm going. At the same time, he worked a hand over Billy’s length – practically in time. Going slow, almost painfully so.

***

Billy felt like he was crawling right out of his skin, squirming under Steve with nowhere to go. He held on to Steve’s back tighter, tugging on his hair to try and spur him on. His whines got louder, more petulant but Steve just kept going slow, torturously slow. He could feel his curls starting to stick to his face from tears and sweat, not sure if he was still crying or if he was just so aroused it was making him sound like that. 

He urged his hips to push down but he was starting to tremble, not sure how to move, what to seek out first. His heels dug into Steve’s back as he chased the finger inside of him, sobbing miserably when it did nothing but make Steve move slower, hips stilling completely. Giving away control, letting Steve’s hands do what they wanted in a way that made his brain feel empty. Like an egg cracked into a pan, everything spilling out. 

***

Once he’d added in another finger, sweeping up with the pads of them like a caress along quivering muscles, Steve gave Billy a second to adjust, before he crooked them just right. It had been a while, but he had that place memorized, it’s rough location, and it wasn’t something he would forget. He made a ‘come hither’ motion, nosing gently against Billy’s throat – paying no mind to the yellowing, greenish marks of a fading collar of bruises. He pressed a butterfly light kiss there, panting through his nose as he worked both hands. Enjoying the way Billy’s cock thrummed beneath his fingers, and how tight Billy was. The way he squirmed beneath him for more, clinging onto his shoulders.

He wanted to take good care of Billy – now that he wasn’t feeling so out of his mind and rushed from earlier, since they’d both at least come once, he felt more apt to really take his time and break Billy apart in the sweetest of ways. He curled his fingers back again, and gave a heady, twisting tug to his cock, like a reward for Billy giving up some control. Letting Steve take care of him.

***

Billy could feel the exact moment that he melted into the mattress but it was getting harder to tell where it was coming from, everything perfect and soft around the edges. Even just the barest hint of Steve’s face, his skin up against Billy’s neck was—too much, not enough. The self consciousness reared up and lost all of its steam at once when Steve’s fingers curled into his prostate. 

“I-I-I—“

But there wasn’t really anything to say. The emotions felt too big to get out, how terrifying it was to let someone else turn him inside out and see him unsteady. Even if that person was Steve he didn’t know how long it would take to get used to it, if he ever would. He just hoped, hoped Steve would keep trying anyway. 

***

“’s alright, ‘s okay – you can let go, baby,” Steve’s lips moved against the side of Billy’s neck as a third finger joined the two, and it was easier now – easier to work him open, stretching him just enough, and even Steve was impatient now, with Billy gasping beneath him, all loose limbs and lax muscle, pliant and open and ready for him.

Steve let go of Billy’s cock now, so it wouldn’t end up being too much, and instead curled that arm around Billy’s waist, bracing it just between his shoulder blades as he withdrew his fingers from inside, slowly, almost regretfully. He used some of the remaining lube and natural fluids to pump over himself a few times, shuddering a little, before he lined himself up. He braced Billy’s hip as he lifted his head up, saying, 

“Tell me if it’s too much – if you’re hurt – promise - ?” 

***

Billy nodded slowly, looking up at Steve and feeling like he was seeing him for the first time all over again. He heard I want you here with me and you were so still and tried to say it with his face, his hands, his whole body. I’m here, I’m not gone. He nodded again for good measure, a lazy movement like the slow path of a few stray tears down his temple. 

When Steve finally pushed his cock inside of him another sob worked its way out, eyelashes fluttering at that first perfect ache, the sting that gave way to something else entirely. He whimpered and gasped a few times, tried to make the words come. 

“Tell—me again? Please?”

***

Steve worked his hips forward, sliding into Billy, taking the nod as a promise. He let out a shuddering sigh, shoulders shaking as he eased farther in. Taking his time and letting Billy adjust to each added inch of ‘King Steve,’ even if his first instinct upon being immersed in that close, tight heat was to rut forward, to thrust in. But he went slow, murmuring low, murmuring Billy’s name. Those whimpers in his ear. 

“You’re so good, Billy. You’re good.” As he slowly settled home, resting there a moment, it brought him close enough to Billy again to kiss his chin, then each cheek. “You’re good, baby. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it – ‘cause it’s true.”

He was half breathless with exertion, half breathless with how tight Billy was around him, striving to give him a moment to get used to him – he knew he was big. He’d been told. And they hadn’t done anything in a month, and Billy’d been hurt to boot. 

“You ready, love? You want more?” Steve hummed at him, canting his chin down to kiss at the center of his breastbone. Keeping his hips still, with one arm wrapped around Billy’s waist, keeping him grounded, while his free hand searched out Billy’s to hold against the sheets. 

***

Billy whined at the endearment, at all of them. As many times as he needed to hear it Steve would say it, Steve would tell him he was good, call him love, baby, his. He’d never belonged to anyone before, never wanted to but like this? Like this he’d let Steve hold him down, keep him safe. 

“Please,” he pleaded, his hand frantically looking for Steve’s just as Steve started to move his own. He felt his hand pushed into the bed and sighed in relief, a shaky moan of sound. 

He rutted weakly against Steve’s hips like some added confirmation, like some other promise. That he’d always want it, always need it, and that—he’d tell the person he loved when he didn’t. 

***

With their fingers interlocked, Steve pressed Billy’s knuckles into the mattress as he responded to those hips working against his own, the tiny movement of them, like an invitation. A silent plea. He rocked into Billy then, rolling his hips just right, letting out a shocked moan at how good at felt – how perfect, how amazing – how much he’d missed it. 

He started up a slow and steady wins the race pace, at least at first, and he couldn’t help but stare down at Billy with dark bedroom eyes – in something like awe, he supposed, and a lot like love – watching how with each sweep of his hips, connecting them so completely, how Billy’s soft lips panted open, moaning, living off of his tiny little whines and breathy sounds. The way those long, dark eyelashes fluttered with pleasure, the way that cute nose crinkled up, and how even his chin trembled with feeling. 

“You’re so good,” Steve repeated, “So good – so good, so good.” He was huffing the words, panting them against Billy’s chest, imbuing the ‘goods’ in perspiration dotted skin. Adding another with each meaningful snap of his hips, driving into Billy with purpose. Driving the words home.

***

At first it was just tears, desperation that felt almost sad, each of Steve’s words like a balm soothing some ache deep down inside of him. He was healing something in Billy no one else had ever been able to touch, the prospect of being even close to this open too terrifying to even think about. But he was now, he was for Steve and it still scared him only now it was at the thought of ever stopping. 

Then it turned to something more heated, pleasure building and staying at this borderline painful level, one too good, too sharp. Steve’s cock one long, slow drag inside, Steve’s fingers pressing him down at his hip and his hand, his voice. He felt drunk with it, eyes too glazed over to focus, just some handsome blur above him. 

“Steve,” he sighed, hand moving clumsy over Steve’s back, trailing to where his waist tapered in, every inch perfect. 

***

Steve let out a long, slow groan, muffled by his own lips as his rhythm started to pick up – using the hand at Billy’s hip to pull him up just enough that Steve could angle his own to drive into a better spot. Making long, sweeping gestures with sure purpose. Billy’s fingers tickling over his waist. He wanted to do everything he could for Billy, and it felt so much like relief being like this, like coming home. 

He’d never been so happy, he thought, as how he felt with Billy like this – like they were practically the same person, they were so in tune, so connected. He wouldn’t have traded this, the boy breathing his name, for anything in the world. 

He kept up with his mantra of ‘So good,’ pressing a kiss into his collar bone, ‘So good,’ a kiss against his throat, ‘So good,’ licking along his lower lip, ‘So good, Billy –‘ and catching those lips up with his, while he thrust in at an angle into where he thought that spot might be. 

His tongue dipped deep into the recesses of Billy’s mouth, tangling both of theirs together, sharing breath. Lighting up nerves. Their bodies rocking and slipping together. Everything was a steady crescendo, building towards something, climbing with each frantic heartbeat. 

***

Billy’s hand went from lazy to scrambling, nails digging lines down Steve’s back as he broke the kiss. The sound that came out of him was one he hadn’t been able to make in so fucking long. It was nothing like muffled pleas under Steve’s hand in the dark or his shirt pushed up into his mouth, nothing like that at all. It was sharp and the way it bounced off the ceiling was sharp too, the same as the pleasure making him go still at first and ravenous after. 

“Steve, Steve, please,” he begged, belatedly aware of his hips moving, getting close to fucking himself on Steve’s cock before that sweet reminder of let go rang out. “Hold me, hold me down, pleasepleaseplease.”

If Steve didn’t he was going to break apart, too many pieces to fit back together. If Steve didn’t he’d drift away, he wouldn’t be right here, he’d get lost somewhere. He felt drunk with it, his hand leaving Steve’s on the mattress to join the one clawing at his shoulders, thighs shaking but doing nothing to keep him from holding on. 

***

As Billy got both arms around his shoulders, Steve immediately obliged him – to hold him down like he asked. Pleaded with him. Steve got both hands onto the points of Billy’s hips, because he was leaving his ribs, and upper torso alone – didn’t want to put any pressure there. But with his palms pressed against the jut of hip bones, fingers curling around the meaty curves of Billy’s upper thighs, he stabilized Billy against the mattress. It also gave Steve more leverage, with his back arching above the blonde spread out beneath him, as he essentially fucked him down into the mattress itself – taking care to hold him down, keep him in place, wasn’t gonna let him go anywhere. 

The sounds Billy was making told him he was on the right track, and really, Steve loved his sounds, all of them, and it was so much better than the last few times they’d done it – at the trailer, or even in the library, because he could finally hear Billy.

“Like hearing you,” Steve gasped down at him, sounding like he’d been running some kind of a marathon, because he kind of was. “Like – like all your sounds you make for me. Love you. I love you.” 

He got an even better grip and wasn’t just holding Billy down by the hips now – he actually used the grip to pull Billy back into him. Meeting him with each timed thrust, which were quickly growing more ragged, wet with the sound of skin on skin.

***

It was perfect, everything was perfect. For one shining, filthy moment he felt completely untethered, his only task making sure he held onto Steve’s shoulders. His thighs were shaking too much to stay high up anymore, splayed out at his sides and still shaking but Steve had him. He had him because Billy had given it to him. 

“Wanna come, I wanna come,” he whined, though he made no moves to touch himself. 

He realized—like a slap in the face—that he was waiting for Steve’s permission. He was crying and clawing and the arousal ran so deep that it hurt and he wanted to let go. He wanted to but he needed to give that to Steve too, gasped Steve’s name like a prayer, like a hope. 

***

Steve was huffing against the battered skin of Billy’s throat now, eyes screwed up as he focused on not coming. His hair fanning out wildly over his brow, drying in frayed spikes, ticking at Billy’s cheek with each slightly more frenzied thrust as he tried to keep himself in check. He liked, rather, that Billy was almost – almost asking him, like Steve telling him to let go, had actually had some kind of an effect. Because Billy always had to be in control, and he was letting Steve take some of that much-needed weight off of his shoulders. Even if it was just mostly in bed. 

Steve pressed a messy kiss against Billy’s chin, easing away from his prostate just enough – just enough that it wouldn’t make him come untouched. His cock jumping inside of him at the way he said Steve’s name.

And he gave Billy an option, a reward as it were, because good things happened when you could recognize good things about yourself. And it wasn’t something only Steve should be saying. 

“It’s your turn – tell me first,” Steve gasped in between breaths, panting against his jaw, bracing his fingers a little more into the soft skin of Billy’s hips. He was smiling, pressing unlasting kisses there, humming “Tell me - tell me. How good you are.”

***

Billy’s face screwed up in frustration, the expression coming on slow like he was drunk. He blinked up at the ceiling and felt his stomach tense, Steve’s words trickling in and out before he fully processed them. Then he shook his head but that felt slow too, hands grasping at Steve’s shoulder blades for purchase. 

“C-an’t,” he said miserably, the kind that stemmed from having something he wanted, craved dangling right in front of him. Just out of reach, just inches away, frustrating enough to make his eyes well up and his vision blur. 

***

“’course you can,” Steve nudged at his chin with the tip of his nose, ignoring the spike of pain at the bridge. 

Didn’t really feel it with the pleasure running over him, coursing through his bones with each roll of his hips, each drag of his cock. He was feeling just as impatient to come as Billy now, but really, now that he’d gotten this idea in his head he felt like a dog with a bone – didn’t wanna let it go. Even if he could tell Billy was tensing, getting frustrated. But he braced his knees more against the mattress, picked up the tempo a bit – really driving the point home and getting Billy closer, the stakes higher.

“c’mon love, tell me – tell me, wanna hear you say it. - Just two little words, baby. - Know you can.” 

***

“I’m good,” Billy said, those two words like pulling teeth, carefully not putting anything into them. He tried to trick his brain, tried convincing it someone was just asking him how he was, that he could just throw the words out if it meant a reward later. 

But then why were his eyes still welling up? Even if there’d been no conviction in his voice like he was reading the paper, why was he still gasping for breath?

Because he was scared, he realized. Scared that he’d been cornered but too love drunk to want to leave. Everything he’d confessed to Steve earlier washes over him and he was gasping harder, polar opposite sensations hitting him. Grief and pleasure, love and pain, wanting to make Steve happy but not knowing if he could. 

***

Steve didn’t let the way Billy read it like he was reading from the dictionary phase him, just tried to make it easier. He was wearing himself out with the pace, but he slowed the thrusts to an agonizingly tepid pace, really taking some time. He lifted one hand from it’s place on Billy’s hip to gently curl around Billy’s cock – just letting his hand rest there, all long fingers and a wide palm wrapping around it, weeping pre-come and pulsing under his touch. But not moving, holding steady. Just an incentive.

“You’re good,” Steve repeated.

Voice heavy and husky with love and with feeling, with this surety to each word – like there was no way in the world they couldn’t be true. They were irrefutable fact. Breathed with honesty to be used as an example, to be mimicked, or repeated. With feeling. With truth. 

“You’re good.” 

***

Billy’s hands trembled at Steve’s shoulders, some mixture of eagerness for his orgasm and panic at Steve’s words. But Steve loved him, Steve wasn’t trying to scare him. He sounded convicted, like there was nothing he believed more. When Steve said them again with even more feeling he started to cry, thought of the words brave and kind, ones he’d heard from other people in the last month. 

“I’m good,” he said, trying to put himself there, in the minds of the people who saw that in him. People who saw him wanting to protect his family, going back to school just a week after being out of the hospital, going back to school every time Neil hurt him and being alive. Still trying. “I’m good.”

***

“Good, good baby, love you - so much.” Steve smiled again, softly, leaning up and kissing him on the mouth, kissing his cheeks, kissing away tears – tasting salt – he hadn’t meant to make him cry, but -

He pressed an especially tender kiss to Billy’s lips, soft and sweet and he rocked his hips upwards – slowly stroking over Billy’s weeping cock at the same time. 

Eased along by pre-come and slick and sweat he slipped over the velvet hard, burning hot skin, building up to a nifty snap of his wrist as he pressed up into the point of Billy’s prostate, his moan vibrating against Billy’s lips – mouth gasping open for air, tongue blindly searching for it’s mate. 

“You can come, sweetheart - come for me - ?“

A shiver spun it’s way up his spine like sugar, making his hips shake rather uncontrollably, because it felt so good, and even better when he was pulling off Billy in time to his thrusts – feeling the way his cock leapt in the grasp of his palm, chasing after the high of orgasms for the both of them. 

***

The moment that Billy had Steve’s permission his body knew it too, making some mad dash toward its goal. What would’ve normally been a few minutes of pleasure crescendoing up and up and up became seconds of intense strikes of it. Come for me caused something big and frantic and beautiful to seize up in him, the tears on his cheeks making more and more sense to him which each thrust of Steve’s cock into his prostate. 

He came with a loud sob, a sound that broke apart little by little, his body jarred forward and backward as Steve rocked hard up and into him. Every part of him was shaking with exhaustion, both of their bodies slick with sweat but he had to keep holding on. He had to keep gripping at Steve’s shoulders, keep whining up into that mouth and then up at the person inside of him when his head got too heavy to lift. Good baby made him tighten around Steve’s cock and his hips move to try and match Steve’s erratic pace, reveling in the sting and the smack of skin on skin. 

“Your baby,” he cooed, face lax and sleepy with sex, with things bigger than that. Some relaxation he didn’t have any hope of reaching by himself. 

***

Steve’s breath stuttered once Billy started to seize up, but he kept his hips moving, thrusting against his prostate with purpose as his wrist fluidly worked his cock – eyes rolling back a little with the intensity of Billy’s muscles fluttering around his dick, and how he could feel the way he pulsed under the curl of his hand as he came. 

His pace quickly became choppy and inconstant as he let out a short groan – Steve had both hands on Billy’s hips again, had been swinging them back to meet him through Billy’s orgasm – but as he finally came too, he froze up a little, pupil dark, chocolate eyes screwing shut, mouth lagging open as he quivered through it – sweat curling his hair up at the nape of his neck, each lock trembling with the force of it. It roared over him in a wave, the best orgasm he – and Billy – had both had in a month, he imagined. It had his stomach clenching, and his shoulders rolling back, back curving with the hot rod that had replaced his spine.

“Mine – m – my baby,” He agreed, babbling, “Billy – oh, oh sh – Billy, Billy – B-Billy-“

As it finally began to ease, the white fading from behind his eyelids, his muscles finally going lax, he slumped down over Billy, breathing hard – puffing breaths against his collarbone as he eased his torso to the side – still careful not to rest on top of Billy’s torso. He slid a little to the side, feeling as stiff as jello before it’d even formed to the mold, letting out a breathy whine as a few aftershocks left him, and it was over.

He breathed hard for a minute, absolutely worn out, a little too much to form words, but he pressed a sweaty kiss to Billy’s left bicep while he tried to make his brain form coherent sentences. When he finally got his eyes open, he looked up at Billy from under dark lashes – reveling in the look on that beautiful, sleepy eyed face, complete with that drowsy, fucked out look – but soft with something else, too. He pressed another kiss to Billy’s shoulder as he stayed laid out against his side, one arm thrown over the flat of his stomach, tangling their legs together. Just breathing for a second, cock softening against Billy’s thigh. 

***

Billy sighed softly, leaning his head to the side and against Steve’s. He knew he had to do it slow, even as sex drunk as he was. If he set his head down too fast Steve would fuss over it, the break that was on its way to healing. That thought made him smile even though it was soft, barely conscious. 

He was close to falling asleep, limbs like cement with no hope of reciprocating Steve’s gentle hold, not that it seemed like he minded. Steve was—sure, he was certain, maybe the only thing Billy had ever thought of in those terms. Someone he loved, who thought he was good. 

“R’min’ me to shower tomorrow,” he slurred, distantly aware of the come reaching the inside of his thighs as he moved, shuddering even though he knew he didn’t have it in him to go another round. “Broke me, sweetheart.”

***

Steve didn’t actually want to move – like really, really didn’t. He wanted to go to sleep with Billy just like this, tucked up against each other, but he hummed at Billy’s request to remind him about the shower, and he got a little crinkle on his brow at the thought. Then he looked mildly alarmed, blinking at him as he crooked his neck a little, lifting his head as his gaze flitted in mild alarm down at Billy’s ribcage, looking unsure. 

“Y-you’re okay though, yeah?” He knew, in part of his brain, that he probably just meant – like – not broken, but…well…no harm in checking.

Steve’s arm slithered off of Billy’s stomach as he dragged himself off of the bed with a sad groan, and wandered towards the bathroom. The light and fan flicked on, hidden by the door, and there was a rush of water as the faucet turned on. Then the light turned off, and the fan, and he trudged back out like a bit of a sleepy zombie – a white hotel washcloth in one hand, folded into a neat, damp square. Dripping a little on the carpeting. He sat down on the mattress again, between Billy’s legs.

Leaning over, he pressed a soft kiss to the satin skin of his inner thigh, and began to sweep the cloth over Billy’s navel, sticky with come, soothing it away. The washcloth was still warm. He pressed another tired kiss to Billy’s opposite thigh, watching his face with dark eyes as he dipped the cloth between his legs – cleaning up the mess he’d left with care. Not tearing his eyes away from Billy’s.

Obviously it wouldn’t, well, get all of it, but he figured it had to be better than nothing. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. He didn’t want Billy to get that uncomfortable, red, irritated skin from leaving come on his skin overnight.

So he adjusted the little square of washcloth so that it was on the other side, and made sure to get what he could. He got his own stomach wiped off from the hand job earlier, then he threw the soiled cloth on the floor. 

Slowly, he crawled back up to Billy’s side, watching him with half lowered, exhausted eyes – even though they’d slept for six hours earlier, he felt like he hadn’t slept in a thousand years as he lay alongside Billy, clinging at him like an overgrown koala. Tugging the heavy white down comforter over them to hide from the chill of the room, now that the sweat was drying, and he felt the rise of goosebumps. 

***

Billy watched Steve with tired, fond eyes as he cleaned him up. He shivered again at the way his legs fell open so easily, the way his body arched up into Steve’s touch. It was another vulnerable feeling in a night absolutely fucking full of vulnerable moments, tears still drying on his face but without the usual sadness that accompanied it. 

“M’okay,” he said, eyes barely open as he turned his head to look at Steve. 

He thought of the word good, how he must be to be able have someone like Steve pressed up against him this way. Still always handling him like he was precious and now not because Steve was afraid of hurting him, not in that constant way he’d been doing. He thought he might’ve said okay again but wasn’t sure, hand limply falling onto whatever part of Steve he could reach.


	8. Chapter 8

The weekend had been a nice reprieve from everyday life, and from all of the stress of the upcoming weeks – not stress exactly, just…a lot. There was a lot happening. Steve had finals this week, then prom was on Friday, then NEXT week there was graduation prep and then graduation on that Saturday…it was all happening so fast. 

And on top of it all, Billy’s birthday was TOMORROW. 

And Steve had to make it great, he really did, he was like, determined to have it be the best. It was his 18th birthday, and things had been so shitty, and he really needed a good start for his new year. 

He had a lot of prom stuff swirling in the back of his mind too, and he was also tackling that along with Billy’s birthday, and – well, coming back to school on Monday was like a wakeup slap to the face. He had so much to DO. And he could tell he was already getting stressy and they had finals and if he failed he was gonna have to do summer school, even though he would technically ‘walk.’ It made him sort of feel like passing out if he thought about it. 

Steve was chewing on the eraser end of his pencil and digging through his locker for his fucking English textbook, and he was about to go use his free period in the library studying – or at least trying. His hair was sticking up a little extra on end today because he’d been running his hands through it too much, and he kept checking his watch. 

He wondered where Billy was – he hadn’t seen him yet today, and that also had him feeling weird and jumpy.

Particularly considering the real absolute fucking cherry on top of Steve’s stress sunday - what he’d run into when he’d gotten to school that morning.

Because it wasn’t just having so much on his fucking plate already, but Tommy – Steve fucking KNEW it was Tommy and Carol, that bitch – they’d…Steve sighed and dipped his head, pinching at the bridge of his nose before he hissed and jerked his head back, reminded that he couldn’t do that anymore, because his nose was fucked. Damn. 

He slammed the locker shut and rolled his eyes heavenward – while his locker had been open, somehow – a new photocopy of the freakin’ polaroid had been taped to it. Nancy’d torn it off before. But they were everywhere. And Steve hadn’t – well, he hadn’t torn any of them down. Nancy had crumpled it up into a little ball and thrown it into the trash, all indignant bitching about those assholes, and all that– like, like on Steve’s behalf but he…was kind of spacing out. Totally zoned. 

He didn’t have the room in his goddamn brain to worry about what the assholes at the school thought or did, he had…he had finals, and graduating, GRADUATING. He needed to get OUT of here, especially now. Get out of here with Billy in tow. And he had prom, hopefully with Billy, because – because fuck Hawkins High, and he could go with him if he wanted and…most importantly, Billy’s birthday. He couldn’t get distracted. 

Besides, he…couldn’t seem to bring himself to crumple up a paper that had a photo of them kissing. He just…couldn’t. 

Nancy ripped it down again. 

“How are they DOING that?” She hissed, crumpling it into another tight little wad. 

Steve sighed. “Are you sure you don’t mind helping me study?”

“I told you I didn’t!” She grit through her teeth, going a little red in the face. She had that ‘I’m gonna shoot somebody in the face look.’ 

Steve sighed and tipped his head back and spun his lock closed, hiking his backpack over one shoulder as they started down the hall. Everyone was fucking staring.  
Steve kept his face neutral and didn’t look at anyone directly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and started towards the library – Nancy Wheeler hot on his heels.

“Steve what’s wrong with you?” She asked, snatching at white copies on lockers as they went, making them into some big garbage pile in her arms. “Aren’t you – aren’t you upset?” 

Steve winced at the crumple of paper behind him – he couldn’t see her doing it, but he could hear the scrabble of her nails on metal, the tear of paper, her desperation to tear every one down. Just photo evidence of one of the worst nights in the history of ever. Posted up for everybody to see. Nobody in Hawkins High wouldn’t be privy to the party, including teachers. 

“Nance, I – “ he couldn’t fucking deal with it, that’s what, and giving them a reaction, it would just - he didn’t care what they thought - 

“Can Steven Harrington and William Hargrove please report to the principal's office?”  
Came a tinny, crackling voice over the loudspeakers. 

Steve froze – Nancy ran into him from behind, spilling an armful of tattered photocopies. Everybody else in the hallway seemed to freeze, too. Watching. Then they started hooting, whistling. A few clapped.

***

Billy was back on the fucking team. No more sitting on the bench, no more calling out plays to people who didn’t feel like listening to him. He was cleared to play and he could body check Tommy a few times before being called out. The weekend had been terrible and perfect but graduation was close, so fucking—

Everything happened quickly. 

There were pictures all over the hallways. His name was being said over the intercom. The pictures were of him and Steve on Friday. He looked—soft, happy. The kind that shouldn’t have been photographed, him drunk and affectionate, kissing Steve. Hawkins High Fairies written in feminine cursive. Carol’s. 

He started to walk toward the office, so lost in looking around that he nearly ran into Steve and Wheeler, her arms full of the pictures, some all over the floor. He frowned in confusion and opened his mouth to speak, get an answer but then both of their names were being called again. 

“Steve?”

***

Steve blinked at Billy, feeling more than a little overwhelmed, all at once. His mouth pursed into this little frowny line, and he gave this helpless little shrug. He couldn’t actually figure out the look Billy was giving him, it looked kind of like blank shock and also muddled confusion, plus something else? 

He swallowed, as some laughter from the students around them, checking on lockers or hurrying to a class finally died down, eyes catching on them like rubberneckers on the highway inspecting an accident – slowing down to get a good look at the wreck. How much violence there had been – was there blood?

Steve bit the inside of his cheek. “Mornin’” He said stiffly. 

Nancy inhaled sharply behind him like she had a comment, but she bent over to start scooping up her trash pile. 

But Steve knew how Billy was – he knew that he needed his social circle, he needed his spot at the top, and he needed his position – he needed the faux friends. Or at least, he had for as long as Steve had known him. He didn’t know that last week’s shenanigans were enough to change that. And this was – this was public humiliation at its finest. Carol had really stepped up her game, apparently.

Steve knew he had like, this thing, about pretending it was fine when things were definitely not fine. It was an easy thing to fall back into, but he also felt like Billy would need him to be the calm fucking one in this situation. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t like Nancy losing her mind over Barb, and Steve telling her they should just party and forget it. He was just trying to stay cool.

“Guess they’re calling our names.” 

***

Billy stared at Steve a little longer, taking in Nancy in his periphery, picking up a big pile of photos like maybe she’d been...taking them down. It was a nice gesture, he thought. Mostly he didn’t think anything, not for a moment. 

Their names were called a third time, sounding more shrewd than the first two times. Billy had been planning on sharing the good news with Steve about being back on the team and maybe even thought of slamming Tommy’s head into his locker for fun. He’d finally felt a little more like himself. 

Good. 

Steve looked like he felt at this exact moment, the anxiety and the sadness not scratching the surface quite yet. It made his mouth twist in sympathy, not sure if there would be anything either of them could say. Two more weeks of this and—maybe he wanted to be good for those two weeks. 

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, reaching for Steve’s hand and taking it without a second thought, using it to guide them to the office. 

***

Feeling a little numb, a little removed, and definitely not in the mood for any bullshit, Steve tagged along after Billy – the clasp of Billy’s hand tight around his own, and it felt a little clammy. He swallowed and tried to keep up with him, ignoring the stares that they were getting – a few peoples mouths popping open almost comically. He threw a quick wave to Nancy over his shoulder, who stood there with papers tumbling out of her hands, looking concerned and homicidal and sad, all at once. 

When they finally reached the office, Steve’s stomach was doing sick somersaults. Jesus, with his luck, they were about to be suspended, or worse, expelled – and they hadn’t even frickin’ graduated yet. Typical. 

But he just felt kind of exhausted about it, after Friday. 

And honestly he’d really needed the weekend away with Billy – and talking a little with his Auntie Bea. He’d needed going to that club, and seeing that they were accepted, and so many other people that just saw love as love. That didn’t look, or judge, or point fingers, or lock you in a goddamn closet..Steve had never seen that before, not in a place like middle of nowhere Hawkins.…so he just held steadfastly to Billy’s hand, set his jaw, and kept his eyes straight ahead again, ignoring everyone around them that they passed, until they were in the office. Shiri, the assistant, gave them some big eyes then coughed a little into her fist. 

“Boys, the principal would like to see you. He’s expecting you.” 

“Uh yeah, thanks a lot…” Steve muttered. 

***

Billy tossed Shiri a quick look and set his jaw, his hand in Steve’s just about the only thing soft about him right then. He tugged Steve along gently and just barely kept himself from kicking the door in to the principal’s office instead of opening it. One deep breath later and he walked through it the more civilized way, keeping his jaw tight in lieu of curling his lip as they sat down. 

“Is there something we can do for you, Mrs. Murphy?” He asked, easing back into the chair and letting Steve’s hand go, though it was a near thing that he didn’t hold it tighter. “Don’t you think Tommy and Carol should be in here instead?”

***

When Billy released his hand, Steve withdrew his arm to clasp his hands in his lap instead, sitting closer to the edge of his seat. Gaze flicking a few times between Billy and Mrs. Murphy.  
“Hey Mrs. Murphy.” Steve nodded a little, hair bobbing.

“Hello boys. Thanks for coming to see me.” Mrs. Murphy smiled at them, but she always had kind of a cardboard smile, Steve thought. She bent over and tugged a drawer out with a squeal, pulling out a slip of paper. She patted it down on top of the desk, next to her calendar. “Would either of you care to explain this to me? Steven?” She asked, raising her dark eyebrows a little. 

Steve felt like he had a crick in his neck. “It was a prank. Just some asshole prank from some people. Probly thought they were…being funny.” He shrugged a little, his gaze flickering now towards the window instead. 

“And you, William? Tommy and Carol, is it? Thomas Hall and Carol Whittaker?” 

***

“Has any student in the history of this school ever had to explain kissing someone before? Just curious,” Billy said, crossing his legs and slouching back in his chair. Like a big cat is what Steve would say, or what he would if he didn’t look so stressed out. He tried not to be too empathetic to it, tried to stay a little angry instead. “Thomas Hall and Carol Whittaker. That picture was taken by Tommy and that handwriting is Carol’s. You can pull half the student body in here and they’ll tell you.”

A little angry was growing into more than a little. What he would rather do would get him expelled without a doubt, valedictorian offers or not, so he snapped his jaw tightly shut again. He glanced at Steve but Steve only had eyes for the window so he spread his legs a little, bumping Steve’s shin softly with a boot. 

***

Steve jumped a little when Billy’s boot touched his leg, blinking like he’d been somewhere else, looking back at him with a little frazzled smile, but it twitched a little and faltered – he ran his hand through his hair for what was maybe the trillionth time that day, making it even more wild, then tried to focus on the principal again. He felt like he’d blown a fuze. Maybe a few.

“Well, I’ll certainly be having a talk with them, then. It’s a matter of defacing school property.” She nodded. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. However, you would be right, Mr. Hargrove – normally, I really wouldn’t be calling anyone into my office over some public affection. However, in this case – well. I was concerned.” Her dark eyes worked between them, mouth twisting down a bit at the corner. Lipstick just the tiniest bit smudged. Had a little on her teeth. Usually did. 

“Was this some kind of a dare you boys were put up to?” 

A little line of consternation was forming just between Steve’s brows now, and he twisted his hands around a little in his lap. He really loathed being in the Principal's office, and he kind of loathed Mrs. Murphy, and he was thinking about needing to study for his English final. Nancy was supposed to be helping him. This was his free period. They weren’t even at fault.

“I’m not sure why we’re here, we’re not the ones that put anything up or ‘defaced’ anything. It was spin the bottle, but - “

Her face seemed to sink in relief at that, and she uttered an ‘Oh! Well then.’

***

“Wait—concerned? Why would you be concerned?” Billy said, voice rising at her response to Steve, the palpable relief in the room. 

It was like lava, that’s how he’d described it to Bea yesterday. The rage that kicked up in him so easily. It was deceptively quick and seemingly impossible to halt or even slow down. The feeling hasn’t really hit him in a while, not in over a month but he looked down at his hands and they were gripping the armrests with white knuckles, legs uncrossing and knee going a million miles an hour. 

“We didn’t do shit, why are we here? You asked me to be fucking valedictorian and my grades are even better than Wheeler’s,” he spat, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I need to be in class turning in make up assignments, not sitting in here doing fucking nothing while you try to sweet talk me out of being gay. Jesus lady, it’s not the fucking fifties.”

***

Steve was perking up a little in his seat, his gaze zeroing in on Billy – taking in the way his hands were curling so tight around the arm rests, his knuckles had gone white, and his knee was bouncing like he did when he got anxious or nervous or angry. Steve scooched his chair a little to the left, closer to Billy, leaning over to gently rest a wide palm over that tense, coiled forearm – he could feel the tendons lifting up there. 

“Hey, Mrs. Murphy, can we just – drop this – “ he started, glancing towards the woman with a little frown, but Billy kept going. Steve winced. He was getting that sort of face that reminded Steve a lot of after Steve had punched him, this wild, untethered look before he’d totally kind of laid waste to Steve’s face.

Mrs. Murphy’s eyebrows went up almost to her hairline. “Mr. Hargrove, that’s no way to speak to one of your superiors. You’re right, I was considering you for valedictorian – but you declined, and that offer is no longer on the table. Now I know you’ve been going through some – family troubles, and an…illness, and we understand that, but there was no talk about anyone being – being – well. You’re correct, this is not the fifties, but this also is not California, young man. If it was just a game of spin the bottle – and things got out of control – “ 

Steve’s hand was still laying over the spring of Billy’s arm, before he glanced up at what she was saying in mild shock. And like, he knew – he knew her, and she knew him, and she knew his family, and saying that they were boyfriends was maybe on a different level than everyone just – thinking that, being tricked into kissing at spin the bottle, and rumours from two towns over…because nothing was verified, even a photo that had been somewhat staged was only so much to go off of. But it just kind of tumbled out of him. Like it was obvious. 

“It was just spin the bottle, kind of ,” spin the bottle from hell, maybe “- but – he’s my boyfriend.” he said with an obviously defensive tone, eyes dark and not impressed.

Mrs. Murphy stared at him.

“Excuse me - Mr. Harrington?”

***

“It’s a pretty easy word, Mrs. Murphy. Boyfriend, as in, we’re dating,” Billy said, nice and slow like he was talking to someone who was bad with word comprehension. “Do you even know how archaic you sound? People love each other fucking everywhere, not just in California. It’s not some bubble.”

He looked down at Steve’s hand on his arm, his grip loosening on the armrests until at least part of him was a bit more relaxed. Steve did that to him, made him want to be nice and sweet and soft and good, but the woman in front of him had no hope of getting that out of him. 

“I’m really not sure how else I’m supposed to be speaking to you, Mrs. Murphy, because you sure as hell don’t sound like a good superior to me. You don’t sound like someone who wants their students happy and successful, you sound like an old bigot who needs to mind their own business and stop wasting my fuckin’ time. I need to get to class, so unless I’ve done something egregious or I’m failing I’ll be going now.”

***

“I’m someone who wants my students to stay on the right track, Mr. Hargrove, and I can’t say that you two seem to be. That’s detention – for the week. And I really don’t recommend pushing it unless you’d fancy summer school.” She grabbed a pen from her color coded jar of pens and pencils, and pulled out a pink slab of papers for tardies and detentions. She scribbled a small note on it, and slid it towards Billy, then glanced at Steve, eyebrows lifting. “I also expect both of you to report to the school counselor to discuss this. I’ll be speaking with Ms. Whittaker and Mr. Hall, and for now you’re free to leave. I’ll also be giving a call to your parents.” She murmured, shaking her head a little and jotting down a small note on a sticky note to remind herself. 

“That’s bullshit, we didn’t do anything – Billy didn’t do anything - “

“Mr. Harrington, unless you want to wind up in detention along with your – friend, you’ll stop right there. You have enough to worry about with your final grades and passing, because at this point, we both know summer school is looking likely.” Mrs. Murphy snapped, cutting him off – frowning at him with deep lines around the edges of her mouth, oozing disappointment and something else. “With the funding your father gives the school – well, I’ll still be needing to have a talk with him as well.” 

Steve’s mouth gaped open, a vein ticking at his temple, but little alarms were going off in his head that Billy was probably gonna like tear her head off or something – that was looking ‘likely’ too. So he just snapped his mouth shut, stood up, and guided Billy up by the elbow with a gentle but firm touch to try and steer him towards the door, and away from her. Refused to engage.

Sometimes it was just better to not say anything at all and get the fuck out of there. Besides maybe a little,

“Thanks a lot for nothing.” 

***

The detention slip was crumpled into something unrecognizable in Billy’s hand, shaking and white knuckled and the only thing he could focus on. He let Steve lead him out of the principal’s office and kept his eyes on his hand, trying to savor the feeling of Steve’s hand on his arm in public. Remembering holding his hand on the way helped a little, though it soured again when they reached the hallway. 

There were still pictures everywhere. He still needed to get to class to turn assignments in. He needed to figure out how to get Max to see her friends after school for the second to last week of his fucking high school career, the week of his fucking birthday, the week of fucking prom because he had detention. Even without the shadow of Neil looming it felt like too much, like somebody pissing on what could’ve been a good time. 

He didn’t even realize he was the one leading them at first, only registered it once they were in the parking lot, his eyes moving from his fist to the cars. Searching. The grey Lancia was easy to spot and so was slipping out of Steve’s hold and shoving the detention slip in his pocket in favor of his car keys. 

“Fucking bullshit, fucking bullshit.”

***

Walking through school felt like walking through a funhouse of mirrors, all with reflections of themselves in black and white staring back at them as they passed – with Carol’s curly cursive to really make it shine. Steve wasn’t sure when it changed – when it changed from his hand carefully looped around Billy’s elbow, to suddenly Billy was grasping him by the hand and leading him instead – making a beeline for the school doors through the funhouse, until they were finally outside and Steve finally felt like he could sort of breathe. It had been like a slap in the face – what she’d said – on more than one level. 

Like, several slaps, maybe. It was the gay thing, and it was that she clearly disregarded it, that she’d somehow blamed them more for – apparently getting themselves on those photocopies than who’d taken the picture, and she even still thought that Steve was still coasting through his grades on daddy’s money, and he’d been fucking trying for like, the last two years. Like, really trying. It wasn’t like freshman year anymore. Now he wasn’t so sure – like, like maybe he hadn’t been doing as great as he thought, even if it was ‘subpar’ according to his dad, but he’d been passing on his own. Maybe he hadn’t been. It made his head fucking hurt. And she was right – if he blew his finals…well fuck, maybe he didn’t even need to worry. Maybe his dad would just make a call. But he didn’t WANT that. Summer school would be better than that. He wanted to get there on his own, to pass on his own. How would he learn otherwise?

But more importantly, she’d really fucking riled Billy up – Steve hadn’t seen him like this in, well, okay probably right after Steve’d punched him in the face at the Byers place. He had that same manic sort of look on his face that, when he knew it wasn’t actually being sent his way, didn’t seem as threatening anymore. More like a really angry kitten spitting and making a fuss – even if Steve technically did know what the results of it could be. Steve glided his thumb along the edge of Billy’s as they headed across the parking lot, being towed along hand in hand. 

“What a BITCH. Who the hell does she think she is? I can get detention too – I can go with you - ” Steve snapped at Billy’s ‘bullshit’ comment, then paused. “Billy? Babe, what – what’re we doing?” Frowning, he glanced around at the cars as they passed, tagging along. He tried to keep up a little better to get a more accurate read of Billy’s face. He was looking very wild eyed and sharp toothed. “You’re making that one face,” he observed, eyebrows lifting slightly “What’s the plan?” 

***

“I am not making a face,” Billy snapped, then closed his eyes and breathed in hard through his nose once, twice before looking his eyes opened again. His face softened even if it was only for a second, just long enough for him to give Steve’s hand a very gentle squeeze. “Sorry.”

He turned to face Tommy’s car again and looked it over, wondering the same thing himself. Luckily for him the anger and the indignation came swarming right back because he was sorry. He wouldn’t be feeling like this if the world wasn’t full of pieces of shit like Mrs. Murphy and Tommy and Carol, people who wanted him to feel bad about himself or pretend. People who wanted Steve to feel bad about himself for having a rich asshole father or not learning the same way as everyone else. 

When he punched at Tommy’s side mirror it didn’t give, but he knew he could knock it right off if he tried hard enough. So he did. Jabbed it with his left hand and punched as hard as he could, as hard as he wanted to punch Tommy but wouldn’t. Wouldn’t because he was trying to be good but shit like this made it hard. Damn near impossible. 

***

Steve squeezed Billy’s hand right back – and his gaze followed that blue one right to Tommy’s silver Lancia, sparkling and perfect under the sun. When Steve’s hand was dropped in favor of punching the shit out of the passenger side mirror, Steve’s brows jumped up – but something sudden and sharp was lanced within his breast, and he was digging in his pocket, yanking out his keys. He slipped around to the other side of the car, following suite – he hadn’t done anything like this in, well, a couple years. 

Figured Jonathan’s camera had been the last thing, and really, he’d tried not to fuck anybody else’s shit up since then – but it was easy to fall back into it with Billy, it seemed. It wasn’t just Billy getting it started up, though – Steve was a pretty hardcore Taurus, Auntie Bea had told him so, and he was slow to anger with a long fuse (usually.) But the fuse had been lit and he’d been fucking covering for Tommy and keeping his secrets and he pulled this bullshit just because Carol probably said ‘jump’ and he asked ‘how high?’ Him and his jealousy-whatever-it-was. 

He slipped the BMW key into the gap of his fore and middle finger, and slid the key tip along the paneling from the rear door all the way up to the mirror, making a squeal of metal as he went, zig-zagging his fist. A brown curl furling over his forehead as he tipped his head down, mouth set in a line. 

Felt like old times. Felt more like old Steve. But this time it wasn’t Tommy at his side egging him on – it was Tommy’s goddamn car. Between that and the mirror hitting the pavement with the sound of shattering glass, it felt worth it.

***

In any other circumstance Billy would’ve been grinning like a madman getting to see Steve act a little petty. As it turned out punching and being as taut as a rope were things he shouldn’t be doing, generally healed ribs or not. He winced, one side of his face screwing up as he shook his fist out, mostly satisfied with the destroyed mirror at his feet and the sound of Steve keying the car on the other side. 

“What the fuck is wrong with all of these people? Fucking Murphy?” he said incredulously, looking over the top of the car at Steve, eyebrows knitted together. “You know, I swear, seriously swear Hall’s been like thisclose to trying to fuck me before. I know that look, bet fuckin’ Carol knows it too.”

***

Steve’s keys jangled as he tucked them back into his pocket, admiring his handiwork on the side of the silver paint job – he didn’t take any pleasure out of it, exactly, hadn’t taken pleasure in dropping Jonathan’s camera either. Both times it felt like an necessity.

“Yeah, I dunno. I guess there’s a reason why I’ve never known any gay people here - I don’t think it’s that they’re not here, it’s just because of all the fucking assholes in this town.”

His mouth was still set in a grim line, humorless when he turned dark eyes up to Billy over the top of the car. His forehead got tiny wrinkles in it at once Billy said, blinking a few times, before he propped his hands on his hips, leaning most of his weight on his right leg as he shrugged a little. Glancing up at the sky like he was checking where the sun was, squinting into the light.

He couldn’t say he was exactly surprised by what Billy’d said, he’d seen the way Tommy’d looked at him – but christ it made him uncomfortable either way. He couldn’t put a finger on the name of what it felt like – maybe a little (a lot) like jealousy at the idea of Tommy fucking around with Billy. Even if nothing had happened. Even if it was from before they dated. Usually he was pretty good about not being jealous of past experiences, but Tommy was still a very real part of their lives.

“Yeah uh. That’s ‘cause he probably was…” Steve’s lips pursed just a little. “I mean I know he has Carol, and they’re totally ride or die for each other, but…” Steve cleared his throat. “It’s…” Chewed on his lip a bit, a faint breeze sweeping up to stir the locks off the back of his neck. He’d never said this to anyone before, not ever. “It’s kind of a long story. He’s sort of the first person I ever kissed.” 

***

“Tommy’s the—THE WHAT,” Billy said, more like yelled. He reminded himself of Steve when he got spastic about something, waving his hands or throwing his arms and throwing an absolute shit fit. “I wasn’t the first guy?”

It wasn’t what he’d planned on saying. His brain was still trying to catch the fuck up, putting every puzzle piece together slower than he wanted. All the animosity toward Billy at even the mere rumor of him and Steve. Fucking with just his car, his locker. Then his arms were flapping and the shit fit was impossible to stop. 

“That little shithead. Are you fucking kidding me? All this shit, all this potentially life ruining shit—because he’s what, jealous?”

***

Steve’s eyes went round, round as coins as he stared back at Billy, taken aback – over the top of the vandalized car that they should probably get away from sometime in the near future, even if nobody was out here right now, it could change. He’d never seen Billy – quite like that. Yelling at him, but like, different than he ever really had – usually he wasn’t much of a yeller, even when he was mad. The Byers’ house was different, though.

He’d sort of known that it was dangerous information, and giving it to Billy, that was dangerous too – because he was dating Billy, but well, well Billy’d told him about all of the other dudes he’d been with in the past and Steve hadn’t exactly lost his shit over it – you couldn’t control what happened in the past, but honestly, Steve’d done way more with way more girls over the years than that bumbling first kiss when Tommy still had braces, and had cut Steve’s lower lip. 

Billy was actually throwing his arms around like a little kid throwing a tantrum - it was kind of cute, if the world didn’t feel like it was coming down lately. 

“I – I mean, you are? Like I said, it’s…a long story, I don’t know that you want all the gory details. It was just a kiss. A bad one. He cut my lip. It didn’t…” Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, the other still perched atop his left hip. “Yeah, he’s being a really petty little shithead, and I…I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s why, but I think so. When he punched me, during practice? He said something.” 

He sighed into his palm before dropping it.

“I…said some. Not nice things, back then.” He glanced away uneasily, a flicker of guilt clouding his face. “When he kissed me. It was in seventh grade. He’s the only one that would’ve known it’s not a rumor, since...” 

***

“Since what?” Billy said, thinking back on the day at practice, how he hadn’t been able to do anything. He hadn’t stepped in and it still made him feel uncomfortable, the control that kept slipping away from him ever since the day at the mall. “He can’t seriously think getting rejected at thirteen means he can just—that he fucking—“

He was lighting a cigarette as he spoke, a look on his face daring Steve to lecture him about his ribs while he moved them away from the scene of the crime. When the Camaro got closer he sat himself on the trunk with a frown, trying not to let the jealous cloud what they were talking about. It was stupid but still there, had his knee moving and him itching for another smoke before he’d even finished the first. 

***

The look Steve gave him was judgy enough for the cigarette, but he managed to bite his tongue – he’d been mother henning Billy so much about his ribs, and he thought the last thing he needed was for Steve to get on his case today. They just couldn’t seem to fucking catch a break at this school. 

Steve clambered up onto the trunk alongside Billy, his Nike’s swinging as he clasped his hands tight in his lap, glancing over at the slouching blonde. Normally he would soothe a hand over Billy’s thigh to still that jiggling knee, or even ask for a smoke, but he had a weird feeling like…like he didn’t know. Like maybe Billy was mad at him.

“Since, before he kissed me – I mean it was a long time ago, we were just kids, but - I’d told him that I liked looking at guys too. But then he kissed me and I, guess I got cold feet. I was still trying to figure things out. I was – pretty mean to him. He started dating Carol the next week. But I seriously have no idea what the hell is going on in his head, he seems pretty fucking confident I won’t say anything, ‘cause I did swear not to. It’s been years, he’s with Carol, he should just – be over it. I don’t know. But I think…” He squinted, and rubbed at one eyebrow, face screwed up as he thought. “I don’t think that’s just it, though – I think you’re right. The way he looked at you.” He scowled a little, like biting into a lemon - mouth sour with it. 

He looked down at his hands then, interlacing his own fingers and knocking the heels of his Cortez Nikes gently against the bumper. “Are you mad...at me?” He seemed mad. Or something.

***

Billy was lost in thought, frowning off in the distance as he took drag after drag and processed sentence after sentence. He involuntarily pictured a younger Steve being kissed by Tommy fucking Hall, how cute he must’ve been back then. The image was decidedly muddied by the idea of Tommy kissing him, of him harboring some resentment toward Steve all this time. At Steve’s question he was pulled out of his head, shaking it firmly and looking at Steve in alarm. 

“No no, I’m not mad at you,” he said quickly, using the hand not occupied by a cigarette to grab for one of Steve’s. “I’m not even mad. A little jealous, but not mad. I just—you got fucking outed. You got outed for rejecting somebody. What if your dad was like my d—like Neil? What if there were more people in Hawkins like him? He’s so busy thinking about his fucking self he doesn’t get how dangerous that could be for you. It’s bullshit.”

***

Steve’s shoulders eased a little as Billy grabbed his hand up, and he curled their fingers reflexively together. Letting it ground him, along with Billy not being mad - but a little jealous?  
“Oh.” He wasn’t really used to it going the other way. “You don’t have to be jealous. Was a long time ago, didn’t mean anything. Not like with us.” 

He frowned, nodding as he gazed over at Billy, meeting him eye for eye as he breathed in the scent of the smoke that the breeze stirred around them.

“Yeah Tommy – Tommy is usually thinking about himself, and he holds grudges. There’s a reason I stopped being friends with him – he’s a total asshole. I’m not sure when or how he changed into – whatever he is now. I don’t…I don’t think he cares.” He squeezed Billy’s hand within his own – Steve’s hand just a little bigger, big enough to wrap around his a bit.

“I mean, I gave this shit up, all of it. You know that, before you ever came to school here, ‘turned bitch’ or whatever – I don’t care about what any of those people think. Their opinions don’t matter to me. There are more dangerous things. But – are you doing okay? This…all of it is so fucked. I can’t believe I ever called them friends. Are you okay?” 

***

Billy winced as his old words drift through his ears, something altogether embarrassing about how fucking desperate he’d been then. Desperate for a lot of things, not just Steve’s attention. He wanted everything and he always had and now—well, now. 

“I don’t know. I had friends in California, you know? We grew up around each other and shit and I didn’t have to—I mean, there was a lot of shit I had to hide,” he said, conceding to himself as he took a drag, shrugging with one shoulder. “For Neil’s sake, for my own. But then I came here and it was easy but nobody really gave a shit about me. I guess I ignored it because it was better than nothing. Now it’s really nothing.”

***

Steve’s fingers convulsed, once, like a heartbeat of comfort in Billy’s hand. Looking over at him through slightly lowered lashes, a little frown puckering his mouth. Giving him a mournful look in response to the somewhat devastated expression on Billy’s face.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to do that. I give a shit about you – and Max. Even the kids are warming up to you. We’re graduating in a couple weeks – hopefully. Then, maybe we’ll find some people who aren’t, you know, total assholes to be friends with. Here, or somewhere else. Who cares what the hell these people think? You’ve got me. And I love you. And your step-mom, Max. And hey, you know, Sam – on the team – Sam Greeves? He’s actually really nice. He was always complaining that you were a total peacock when you showed up at school.” 

Steve gave him a warm smile, stroking the side of his thumb, cheeks warming in the sun. 

“He’s never exactly been, well, a part of your fan club. But he’s asked me a couple times if you were doing okay, being benched, and if you were feeling better and stuff. He also told me he liked a lot of your plays - thought you were really smart. That was last week.” Last week, Billy’s first week back.

***

“Yeah?” Billy said, tilting his head curiously. Sam Greeves. Huh. “I’ll—maybe I’ll talk to him. You playing matchmaker or something?”

He knocked his leg against Steve’s and instantly thought of Max. If the last few weeks had showed him anything it was that she definitely gave a shit, threw a hissy fit right next to Steve whenever he tried to “overexert” himself. Susan was sweet too, not a mom but as good as one for him now. He had some people, even if there wasn’t any of the pomp and peacocking he wanted. 

“I’m taking Max to the arcade later, maybe we could have dinner. I’ve got like, three papers to coast through but then I could be free.”

***

“I am a world renowned matchmaker I’ll have you know.” Steve laughed, rolling his eyes heavenward. 

When Billy knocked his leg against his, he scooted over and let their thighs rest together more permanently. A constant pressure of denim against denim, could feel the heat of his body through the fabric.

“I’m just saying he’s a good guy, and could be worth being friends with. I’ve known him since Kindergarten.”

Steve blinked a little at Billy’s offer, and felt a little guilty, because the offer was sooo tempting but he really did have too much on his plate. He shook his head a little with a sorry expression.

“No, I can’t – I’m really sorry. I’ve gotta go home tonight and study – I was supposed to use my free period to study for English, and I really need to pass the final tomorrow.” That, and plan for Billy’s birthday tomorrow, too (mostly that) – but he wasn’t telling Billy that. It was a surprise! “And, I mean – uh, what Mrs. Murphy said – he’s not, I don’t think. My dad. Used to, but, I told him to cut it out when I found out. A few years ago.” A flush lit the tips of his ears, and crept up his neck, staining the beauty marked skin red. 

***

Billy shook his head with furrowed eyebrows, shaking at Steve’s hand so he wouldn’t apologize anymore. It wasn’t much better with what he said next, the self consciousness coming off of Steve in waves. He flicked his cigarette away and put his hand to Steve’s cheek, fingers moving over the slightly warm skin there. 

“Hey, you don’t have to explain that kind of shit to me,” he said, shaking his head again, finger running down the long line of Steve’s nose before letting his face go. “It’s alright if you’ve gotta study. But let me know if you want my help with anything, yeah?”

***

Steve’s lashes fluttered closed at the soft feel of Billy’s rough fingertips on his face, gliding over his cheek, and he couldn’t help the shiver that shook over his shoulders when Billy’s index finger followed the slope of his nose, down to the tip, before drawing away. He loved Billy’s hands – loved them. They seemed to put him right at ease, along with his words.

“Okay, yeah I know, I – just. Just wanted you to know, I guess. And yeah, I’ll let you know – I know how good you are at all that English stuff, Mr. Advanced-Classes-Valedictorian.” He teased gently, as he tried to will away any remainder of a blush from before. “But I’ll make due, it’ll be fine. You should probably hang out with Max and Susan tonight, you’ve been gone all weekend, and you’ve got finals to study for, too. But thank you.” 

***

Hanging out with Susan and Max had been nice, as it turned out. Billy had gone into the arcade with Max and they’d sworn and clapped for each other for hours, no Neil with a rigid time to go back home, no fear there at all. 

It was bizarre to him still, the idea of the devil no longer lurking around the corner. Not having to worry when he accidentally slammed his bedroom door without thinking or dropped something too loud into the sink. In fact the response he did get was Susan’s hand soothing down his spine or Max slowly offering to pick something up for him. 

He went to sleep missing the extra heat and weight of Steve next to him but Steve was right, there were a few people he could get that feeling from. Maybe not at the same level, but still—people who gave a shit. 

That morning everyone was quiet, which gave him some sort of pause. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly but it was his eighteenth birthday and no one was really...saying anything. He frowned over at Max but she just smiled with a mouthful of cereal and Susan made him—lunch? Fucking weird. 

He didn’t even get to Steve all day. He ended up eating his lunch from his step mother on top of the Camaro and flipping Hall off from across the lot a few times. It wasn’t quite as fun without Steve next to him but he knew that Tommy knew who exactly fucked with his car.

At the end of the day he was practically itching to see Steve, sat right on the hood of that fancy BMW waiting for his chance. He smoked a cigarette as he waited and thought all of this quiet made it just a little less exciting but he was—what, an adult now? 

Happy birthday to him. 

***

Steve kept getting hit with stuff on the day of Billy’s eighteenth birthday. It was a Tuesday. And stuff just kept coming – he knew that the party was going to be a surprise tonight, so like, you weren’t supposed to say happy birthday and like…make it a big surprise, but, he still wanted to say it. But he didn’t see Billy all day – he was studying for a lot of it and running to catch up in between periods, and then during lunch, he got cornered into Prom Committee stuff (Jesus the count down was on, prom was in four days and Steve hadn’t even gotten his tux dry-cleaned, he was a mess.)

He got stuck in a classroom miserably blowing up balloons and trying to grab bites from his tray of food between exhaling all of the air in his lungs until he was a little dizzy. But thankfully he’d gotten all of the preparations for tonight mostly finished and set up, and that was the most important thing. He’d radioed Max late last night to double check a few things and to make sure everybody was on the same page. He kept trying to find Billy in the halls between classes after that, but still no luck – he wasn’t sure how they kept missing each other. 

When the day was finally over, he was so glad – no more textbooks, no more fucking balloons, and only Billy. Lots of Billy. Happy Billy, if luck had anything to do with it, and he’d done everything he could to prepare for exactly that. All the Happy Billy. He was practically bouncing out of the school once the bell rang, vibrating with excitement. 

When he saw Billy perched on top of his Beamer like an overgrown bird he almost ran across the parking lot – but he just sort of power-walked instead, hanging onto the straps of his backpack like they were preventing him from floating off the face of the earth he was so jazzed. 

It was a surprise party. ‘Don’t say happy birthday’ – Max’s voice said in the back of his head. ‘You can’t say happy birthday so he can be surprised.’ Steve didn’t really GET it though. Couldn’t it still be a surprise party even if he’d already been told happy birthday? He half bounced on his toes over to Billy, his big floppy brown hair bouncing along with him. Grinning like an idiot.

“Hey!” He called and waved like a total goob, that huge, bright grin on his face. ‘Don’t say it,’ said Max’s voice. ‘Don’t say it, Steve! Don’t you dare say it!’

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” He burst out the second he got in range, like he couldn’t hold it in.

***

Billy straightened up on the hood and smiled right back, the shine of Steve’s teeth and his arm flapping in the air making him slide down to his feet. He threw both of his own around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him close, middle finger in the air before anyone could say anything. 

“Go fuck yourself, Hall!” he yelled past Steve’s ear, then leaned in, voice softer. “Hi, thanks. Missed you today. Did we just keep passing each other or something?”

He leaned back to get a good look at Steve’s face, a sight for sore eyes. He wanted to plant a decent sized kiss on that plush mouth and honestly after the shit with Murphy he didn’t give a fuck. But these people didn’t deserve to see that. They didn’t get to. 

“You wanna go eat shitty diner food or something?”

***

Steve jumped a little at the sudden shout, glancing over his shoulder once, bewildered, before trying to focus on Billy again – pulling his focus back, the edges of his mouth curled up and he shrugged a little, grabbing onto the front of Billy’s half-undone shirt. The weight of Billy’s arms around his shoulders keeping him close. Chocolate dark eyes sweeping over that beautiful face, so close.

“Sorry, yeah I think so. I kept looking for you, but then I got dragged into blowing up stupid balloons for Committee over lunch - I’m surprised I have any oxygen left, really. If I see another green or silver balloon I’m gonna throw up. Was your day okay?”

He nodded then, eager, but with other plans on his mind. He just had to get Billy back to the trailer.

“Shitty diner food sounds good, but I’ve gotta pick up the Brat Pack. Wanna meet up back at your place? You’re dropping off Max, right?”

***

Billy nodded back, a fine idea even if he would rather have gotten right back home. Give himself the birthday gift of having sex with Steve in broad daylight in his own room. But waiting, that was fine too. Just seeing Steve now felt a little like a gift, not that he’d say that. He did have a line drawn on sappiness. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” he said, kicking at Steve’s shoe before stepping back. He walked backward to the Camaro and let himself look at Steve a little longer, just enough to tide him over. 

When he peeled into the pick up line in front of the middle school he couldn’t help the mean little grin on his face when a few kids jumped back. At least somebody was still intimidated by him. He laid on the horn the second he saw Max, whistling out the window for her. 

“Maxine, let’s move it,” he called, distantly thinking about how much lighter those words sounded. Last year he used the same ones but they came out a lot different. A lot fucking different. “I’ve got a date.”

***

Max scowled at him, her copper hair flaming around her as she stomped over to the Camaro, kicking at the asphalt with her chucks in a little huff. 

“I can’t find my board!” She exclaimed, seeming a little dramatic maybe. She turned her nose up and took a huge breath like she was trying to find some peace and not yell. “I NEED MY BOARD BILLY.” 

She scowled, her freckled face all screwed up into a pout, looking around wildly like her skateboard was gonna jump out and bite her. 

“I don’t care if you have a date with Steve - you can see Steve anytime – my board could be gone forever. Someone might have stolen it. You’re gonna help me look? Right? Or beat them up? Pleaseee? This is LIFE or DEATH. And all those other little shit-nuggets just LEFT!” By shit-nuggets, she clearly meant her friends. “Even my stalker!” And by stalker, she meant Lucas. Her boyfriend.

***

“Oh for fuck’s—fine,” Billy said, waving his arm to get her away from the car so he could passive aggressively park in the lot. It didn’t exactly seem fair to be on some hunt when he was just asking the universe for one thing on his birthday, but she did seem upset. 

He stomped his way out, not much differently than Max had and put his hands on his hips, not much different than how Steve did. Everyone was fucking rubbing off on him. 

“Alright, where were you last?”

***

With her board safely secured in her arms – which had mysteriously ended up in the dumpster because apparently some people were assholes – Max was looking out the window, looking pleased as punch and a little smug, her lashes lowered and a coy little cats smile curling up her mouth. She was bobbing her head and humming along with Van Halen even though she normally didn’t seem to express much interest in the music Billy played. She hugged her board to her chest – it still smelled a little. But it was worth it.

“Thanks again Billy. You get good big-brother points, I guess.” She conceded after a while. Even if it had been a set up, but he didn’t know that, and of course he’d carried through. The nerds she called friends had been mostly convinced that he probably wouldn’t even help her, but she’d proved them wrong, huh? Knew him better than they did. And okay she felt a little bad tricking him into helping her, but, it was for a good cause. 

When the Camaro finally pulled into the gravel drive of the trailer, Max hopped out and slammed her door behind her, looking around like a startled rodent that was checking out it’s surroundings to make sure the coast was clear. Steve’s BMW was parked just ahead of the Camaro, empty.

There was music coming from the line of trees just on the edge of the property – behind the other side of the trailer, along the water's edge of Lover’s Lake, where sleepy loons called and the sun was low in the sky – sending a thousand sparkles off the water. Making orange shadows show up absolutely everywhere. 

***

“Damn, is Susan rocking out?” Billy said, shutting the car door and peering into Steve’s car. Empty of course, though he couldn’t help feeling a little eager to see him. “God I hope Steve’s not getting her into Billy Joel.”

Max seemed confused too, wondering what all the music was about. She seemed keen to investigate so he followed her, thought maybe he’d see Steve twirling Susan or something ridiculous and charming. That wasn’t what he ended up seeing. At all. 

There were card playing tables set up in the backyard with bowls of food everywhere and something that looked suspiciously like a cake. Susan was sitting and looking pleased as punch watching the kids—dance? Argue? Either way they looked pretty animated. He saw Max wave her arms out of the corner of his eye and immediately everyone was looking right at him, screaming surprise! with Steve louder than anyone else. 

He didn’t know what to do, just knew that his face was on fucking fire. They were all there for him, even the grumpy looking frog faced kid, Mike. Little Will Byers was smiling like it was his fucking birthday, a present held close to his chest like it was too precious to set down. Suddenly Max’s arms were around him, their first actual hug in, Jesus, years. 

“Thought everybody forgot,” he said quietly, bashful not the word he’d ever use even though he could bet anything Steve was thinking it. 

***

“I was supposed to ‘forget’ too,” Steve laughed lightly, touching Billy’s arm as he took in the endearing way his face lit up like a flame. “Nobody forgot. It’s just supposed to be a surprise.” He was smiling so much his eyes were all crinkled up. 

Everything smelled good – it smelled like a barbeque. And in fact, in addition to the bowls of chips and goodies and sliced watermelon (out of season watermelon, but still watermelon), Hopper was standing at the grill in the backyard. He was out of uniform, in a white wife beater and a bright Hawaiian shirt thrown on over it, with a pair of casual blue-jeans and cowboy boots. He waved the spatula around a little with a hearty grin as he left the grill for a second, clapping Billy on the shoulder and scruffing up his mullet a little. “Happy Birthday, kid. How d’you take your burger? Medium? Rare? Cheese? No cheese? Also got hot dogs. You say the word.” 

“Hop’s the Hawkins renowned bar-b-que master.” Steve grinned over at Billy. “It’s a real honor to have him at the grill, so we’ve all heard.” 

“Awards, Harrington. I’ve won awards.” Hopper pointed his shining spatula at him then looked back at Billy, eyebrows raised, ready for his answer. “Well, birthday boy? What’ll it be?”

***

Billy glanced around for a second like maybe he was dreaming, or maybe Hopper wasn’t talking to him. The paternal vibes coming off of the guy made him light up like a Christmas tree in a way he had no control over. That touch on his shoulder and his hair, realizing he hadn’t flinched at all, that it hadn’t crossed his mind. Steve’s hand on his arm was another tender thing entirely, shoulders bunching up to his ears with happiness until he remembered he was being spoken to. 

“I—uh, cheeseburger. Medium,” he got out, his chest impossibly tight. “I—thanks. Thank you.”

He looked over at Steve and the sentiment was clearly meant for him too, his skin getting tighter every second. He’d never really had to process so many good things at once, hadn’t thought he ever would considering all of the bad that had happened in the past year. But it was happening right in front of him, to him and little Will Byers was walking up to him and pushing a thin present into his hands. 

“You can open it somewhere else if you want, you don’t have to open it now,” Will said, quickly moving back when their fingers touched, looking over at Steve like he was looking for reassurance. “I just drew something, I didn’t know if we were doing gifts or—“

The paper was carefully opened to reveal another paper, this one in a thin frame. It was...him. Some DnD version of him, hair big and curly like he wore it now. Even a shirt barely buttoned up, a crowbar sling over his shoulder. 

“We built you a character. The other guys, they could tell you more about it but I thought I could...show you,” Will said nervously, gesturing with unsteady hands, eyes decidedly not on Billy. “It’s a Barbarian. He’s really, really strong and uses brute force for things. They seem angry and uncontrollable but if you write them the right way they’re great, they try to protect people and they always want to sacrifice to make sure everyone gets out okay. It’s okay if you don’t l—“

He was interrupted again when Billy decided to move, squishing the frame between them as he hugged Will. He used the moment to let his eyes well up and squeezed them shut, taking in the sound of his birthday party around him. His party. 

***

“You got it,” Hop headed back towards his grill lest anything should burn, wielding the grilling tools like a master, eyeing the sizzling meat with the eye of a connoisseur. 

When Will came over to give Billy the gift, Steve nodded at him, hair bobbing with the movement – reassuring him that the present was okay, presents were good. He’d known that the kids were warming up to Billy, but creating a party character for him was on a whole other level – he thought Billy understood that, especially when Steve caught the brief, overbright shine of his eyes before he caught Will up in a hug. And the description that Will said, well, it sounded like Billy – to him.

Because Billy? “Billy’s definitely written the right way.” And Steve loved that about him.  
He leaned in close to Billy and murmured, “Welcome to The Party,” while he still had his eyes closed. He admired the paper clasped in Billy’s hand in the frame – tilting his head a little. “It really does look like you – look, he even got your earring and necklace. This is great, Will.”

There was a silver Realistic radio set on one of the folding card tables, with the antennae extended all the way – picking up 98.1, which was where all the tunes were coming from. 

Eleven was eying the cake, sitting very close to it. 

“Hey! Dessert last.” Hopper said over his shoulder without looking away from the grill. She put her hand down. 

“Ugh.” Mike said. Rolling his eyes with a stink face.

Susan was making a plate, stacking it up with chips, pieces of watermelon, and a hamburger bun, and she ferried it over to Billy with a bright smile - holding it out to him. “Here you go - there’s plenty of food, so you eat more, okay? We’ll have watermelon for days. Steve dear, please get yourself a plate too, alright?”

“Alright I will, thanks, Mrs. Hargrove.”

***

“Thanks, Susan,” Billy said, still a little choked up. It was wildly fucking embarrassing but nobody pointed out what was probably a splotchy face and shiny eyes, or the way he couldn’t stop smiling. Susan’s fretting had him taking the plate gladly, taking a big bite of watermelon and hoping it would satisfy her. 

He let himself be led to a table and a seat by whoever was closest, distracted by watching everyone talk to each other. He hadn’t had a birthday party since he was six years old and twelve years felt like a really fucking long time. 

“Last time somebody threw me a party it was my mom,” he said softly to Steve, taking another bite and people watching, his free hand moving out to find Steve’s. “You do all this for me? That why we didn’t see each other much yesterday?”

***

Steve had gotten himself a plate as he settled down next to Billy, with an open hot dog bun on his plate with ketchup already liberally applied. He eased back in the folding chair as their hands curled together, humming in relaxation as he looked over at Billy. He had his happy Billy, and everybody seemed happy, and everything had fallen into place. Fingers tangled together.

“’course I did. I mean Susan helped a lot with the food and stuff, and obviously Hop. I wasn’t sure if you’d just want something small, but – well, it’s your eighteenth. It’s a big deal – and you deserve a good party. And a good year. And yeah – that’s a lot of it. I had to finish up getting the card tables and chairs from The Wheelers, and apparently it’s hard to find watermelon this time of year. But I really did have to study too – I got a lot done, that’s all. Do you like it?” He murmured hopefully, turning shining dark eyes up to him. But he thought he already knew the answer, just based on the way Billy really hadn’t stopped smiling, and he seemed a little overwhelmed in a good way. 

Everyone was chatting or bickering as Hop started to put the finished dogs and burger patties on a big plate, separated by cheese or no cheese. He started heading around to people to use the tongs to pass out the meats by what each person had ordered, and he slapped down a medium well cheeseburger onto Billy’s plate and bun with a nod and a gruff smile, and a hot dog on Steve’s plate before he moved on. “There’s gonna be seconds and thirds so pace yourselves,” he warned.

“And cake.” Eleven piped up.

“And cake.” Hopper agreed with a defeated sigh.

***

“I really like it. I really, really like it,” Billy said back, holding the burger in both hands and thinking about it before rolling his eyes upward into the sky at himself. “If I fucking cry over a cheeseburger Max will talk about it for decades.”

He took in a few long breaths as he looked up at the sky, nice and clear and blue. That was the nice thing about his birthday, his mom always told him that it was pretty out as one of his gifts. He’d held on to the idea ever since, even for the last twelve birthdays, most spent alone somewhere or told to stay in his room. Not that long ago that was most of his life, hungry and tired and scared and enraged. Right now—well, he didn’t feel any of it. 

“Will looked like I was the one giving him a present,” he said through a mouthful, humming happily. Awards was fucking right. “Wonder why he gave me a crowbar and not some medieval shit to wield or whatever. Weird kid. Actually, they’re all weird. That girl, Max’s friend, always stares at me. Looks bummed out at me sometimes even though we’ve said like two words to each other. But she’s here too, even her little shitheel boyfriend. For me, huh?”

***

“It’s your birthday – you can cry if you want to.” Steve said, smiling at him all cutesy. Tightening his hold on Billy’s hand. It felt a lot better holding it amidst all of the people in the world that he really trusted than when they’d been in school, and it felt more like it was holding them together on a tumultuous sea of stares and borderline disgust. 

At the mention of the crowbar, Steve shifted a little uneasily – he knew exactly why it was a crowbar, just like why it was a nail studded bat, instead of some medieval double headed axe like a barbarian would normally have. He didn’t like lying to Billy. Even if a lot of it was lying by omission, he knew that if he told Billy any of it he’d laugh in his face and probably have him committed. Or, you know, just leave him because he was certifiable. Alternate dimensions and shady government labs were the stuff of paranoia and madness. 

“uuuUUUUhhhhh yeah that’s weird…” Steve said, shrugging a little and trying not to have shifty eyes. “Who knows…”

He took a huge bite of his hot dog to occupy his mouth, not meeting Billy’s eyes and letting them drift towards Eleven. He chewed for a second (okay for like a minute, it was a really big bite) and then swallowed – gathering his thoughts.

“They’re all total weirdos. But like, my weirdos. Sorry, I guess I’m kind of a package deal.” He gave Billy a bit of a smarmy smart alec smile, wrinkling his nose a little. “But oh yeah – her friend, Jane? We call her El, but…you know she’s the chief’s daughter? Right? Part of why she’s here, I think.” 

He thought he knew why she looked sad when she looked at Billy. Doing her little digging around in his brain probably. He winced a little. “And yeah Mike just kind of goes along wherever she is. And you know, Lucas and Max, and Dustin’s sort of….well. Part of the package deal with me I guess. Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking awkward and laughing a little nervously. “Is it okay I invited them?” 

***

“No, yeah, it’s okay,” Billy said, stealing away the hand Steve was using to pull into his lap, both of them held close before he let them go. “Really, it’s okay. I guess I just wasn’t expecting—anything at all. It’s nice.”

He set to work on polishing off his cheeseburger, another put down in front of him before he’d finished. Susan had put on some Hawaiian exotica shit from the 50’s that made him roll his eyes all the way back into his head, though a smile wasn’t far off either. It was strange to see her so light now, like she’d finally gotten some good sleep, caught up on some sort of debt. 

“I really love you, Steve Harrington,” he said, setting his elbow onto the table and setting his cheek in his hand, the other pushing his second cheeseburger toward his mouth. “Like, really love you.”

***

Steve flushed with delight, smiling and leaning back against the card table edge as he tilted his head to the side, watching Billy looking all sweet and laid back and relaxed and happy and it made Steve feel warm and bright with it – like Billy was the sun, and Steve the flower – basking. Looking totally moony eyed and grinning like an idiot in love.

“Love you, Billy Hargrove. Really, really. Happy birthday.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve felt eyes on him, and glanced over to find Will staring at them all wide eyed, looking a little shell shocked – Steve frowned a little, tipping his head, but his perfect sun was distracting him and those chocolate dark eyes drifted back to Billy of their own accord. He popped a chip in his mouth. Will usually looked a little shell shocked about something – it wasn’t all that surprising, with what he’d been through. And Steve knew he didn’t like to be stared at or treated differently for it – the whole zombie boy thing. So he tried to ignore the look.

“When we finish, you have cake, and presents to open. I bought exactly eighteen candles.” 

***

Billy followed Steve’s line of sight and gave Will a little smile, watched as he realized who was looking at him and smiled back. It was a tiny thing, shy and uncomfortable so Billy looked away in favor of what Steve was saying. His eyebrows lifted and his smile got even bigger. 

“Presents, huh?” he asked, taking his last bite and almost, almost wiggling his shoulders. Eating like a normal person—like, every day made him happier and happier each time. He thought about the first week in the trailer and the way Susan piled his plates up, same way she did today. “We gonna kiss over the cake? Make Max sick?”

***

Steve laughed, glancing over at Max, who glowered back at him.

“I think she’s already sick, she was just miming throwing up into the old flower pot over there.” He grinned and stood up for a second. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna grab another piece of watermelon and I forgot the candles inside.” He winked at Billy and went to grab another slice of watermelon, sticking it in his mouth as he ran up the back stairs of the trailer to the back door. Ferrying a now empty plate with him. 

Dustin plopped down in Steve’s place, folding his hands in front of him like The Godfather. 

“Happy birthday!” He said to start out. Then, “So what are your intentions with Steve?” He lisped, looking bright and interested. “You know there are several male species in the wild that co-habitate and may originally display signs of aggression for dominance for the purpose of mating and – “ 

“Dustin SHUT UP!” Max yelled at him and threw a piece of watermelon at him. It thunked into the side of his cap, leaving a pink mark. 

He stared back at her, affronted. “WHAT!?”

***

Billy ran his tongue across his teeth, mostly to keep from laughing. Time had taught him that the most opportune times to laugh at Dustin were pretty much always the times when he was actually being serious. He was a very solemn little shit when it came to Steve, like Steve wasn’t fucking King Steve before. 

“Well, I intend to not be interrogated on my birthday,” he said sweetly, too sweetly and with too many teeth. “Then I intend to have Steve bend me ov—“

This time he was the one hit with food, catching a hot dog bun before it could make contact with his head. 

“Excuse me, not the fucking hair,” he barked, tossing it right back to her before turning his eyes to Dustin again. “Speaking of hair, don’t listen to Steve. He doesn’t know shit, he has Barbie princess hair that’s never seen a curl in its life.”

***

“Your sister is so abusive.” Dustin sniffed with a mournful puppy look that almost matched Steve’s, like he’d learned it somewhere.  
“And wait bend what?” he gave a startled blink when Max held up her best pitchers arm again, “Okay okay okay! God nevermind. Just asking a question, gosh.” He huffed and straightened out his tie that his mom had helped him tie. His eyes got really big and he leaned a little towards Billy, mouth falling open a bit. 

“Wait, wait he told you about that?” he asked in a really low hush-hush voice. “That’s a secret, dammit.”

The back door swung open. “Steven you have some ‘splainin to do!”

“God stop watching I Love Lucy with your mom, please. I’m begging you.” Steve sighed, taking the steps two at a time, weilding a box of candles and his zippo. “What do I have to explain now?”

***

“No, Steve didn’t tell me anything. But I know what it looks like when someone with curly hair tries to pretend they have straight hair,” Billy said, pointing at Steve and getting a handful of his hair once he was close enough. “Steve doesn’t have to do shit to have nice hair. One false move with curls and you’re gonna have fucking dreadlocks. You gotta get your hair cut when it’s dry and put it up in a towel. And don’t use that girly shit Steve uses, it’s got too much alcohol in it.”

Max was looking at him strangely—judgmentally. He narrowed his eyes at her when he recognized that particular look. 

“Yes, I do need to twist my hair in a towel,” he said defensively, pointing at her in a way that he knew had no effect anymore. “It’s not my fault that you can’t because it makes you look like a troll doll.”

***

Steve sighed. He walked away for five seconds, and how somehow Billy was talking Hair with Dustin? What the hell? He wouldn’t admit it made him happy though. He really, really liked Billy spending time with the kids. It made him inexplicably happy, really.

Steve waved a hand like he had a fly buzzing around his head. He already knew Billy used a towel turban in his hair and he thought it was cute as hell, but it wasn’t the time to say that. 

But then Billy actually sank his hand into said perfect hair – making Steve frown, because he’d spent like a long time getting it ideal for the party, dammit – and also because Billy knew what getting his hands in Steve’s hair did to him, and seriously REALLY not the time or place for THAT. He shook his head to free Billy’s hand, sidestepping him with the candles rattling in the box in his hands. Trying to ignore the goosebumps. 

“Hey it actually takes a lot of work to have this hair, I’ll have you know.” Steve said, laughing and pointing a candle back at Billy as he slid the rest of them out of the little box. “And it was still solid advice. It looked really good when he styled it for the dance! And it’s not girly.” 

“It looked like rats were nesting in his hair, Steve.” Lucas totally flatlined, monotone. Raising his eyebrows at him. 

“It did not!” Dustin said defensively. “You guys were just jealous. Steve said.”

“Totally jealous.” 

Steve nodded, rubbed a hand over his jaw, and started poking blue birthday candles into the cake with serious concentration, carefully avoiding the curly cursive letters reading ‘Happy Birthday Billy!’

***

“Hey, that’s my favorite color,” Billy said, watching Steve put candles on his cake like he was performing surgery. The lack of response had him thinking Steve knew that, like Steve knew little things about him aside from all the heavy shit. It made him sink into his seat and get lost for a second just watching, face balanced on his hand again. 

Susan seemed to notice the moment that Steve had finished and yelled through cupped hands for everyone to gather around, all these people, some who Billy hadn’t thought cared at all. But they were here, even if Steve was the one who invited them. His eyes got suspiciously bright again while they all sang, his face heating up too and his hand moving to cover it as he watched through splayed out fingers. 

***

As the song wrapped up, Steve dipped his chin a little, smiling and watching Billy with kind, hopeful eyes and this secret little smile like he was thinking about something. He was thinking about how much he loved him, looking through his fingers like that - much like the child he had been the last time he as probably sang to. Jesus, he loved im so much.

The kids were still singing, being obnoxious, swaying, and keeping the song going with ‘And manyyyy mooooooore, on channnel fooooour and Scooby Dooooo on channel twoooo and Frankensteiiiin on number niiiiine – ‘ before they dissolved into laughter.

Steve shushed them with a point and then a ‘cut it out’ gesture across his throat.

Susan was snapping away on her camera, only pulling it away from her eye to run her thumb over the film wheel before taking another one. “Okay Billy, why don’t you blow out your candles and make your wish?” She prompted, holding the little point and shoot camera up to her eye, squinting into it. 

Hop stood somewhere behind him, and rest a huge hand over Billy’s shoulder, and gave it a little squeeze. “Make it a good one, kid.”

Steve sidled up to his other side, smiling with a little tilt of his head. Wrapping their hands together and holding tight. “Can be as small or big as you want.” He said, echoing his Auntie Bea’s advice. He leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to Billy’s cheek, the candle flames flickering. 

***

Billy nodded at Steve, at Susan, at Hopper. He blew the candles out and thought of the seemingly endless wishes he had always kept with him. No more nightmares, no more bad memories to think on, a full stomach, a body free of bruises, someone, anyone to talk to. Now he mostly had those things and all he wanted, really wanted was to be able to keep them. He closed his eyes after he was done and smiled to himself while people cheered and clapped, tried to solidify the wish as long as he could, Steve’s kiss on his cheek like a seal of approval. 

The kids spread out after that, Hopper’s hand gentle on the back of his neck before it disappeared to distribute slices of cake. Susan took the seat next to him and set the camera down in front of her, pushing a Manila envelope toward him. 

“Hopper helped me do some digging,” she said quietly, swallowing like she was nervous before correcting her face, patting Billy’s hand and letting it go free. 

Billy frowned in confusion at her before tearing into the big envelope, half a dozen folded up letters falling onto the table. UCLA, Berkeley, Stanford, CIT, Pepperdine and UC Santa Cruz. A few of them looked crumpled up, the Stanford letter stained with coffee but that was his name on the top. He poured through each one, hands shaking harder at every letter he read. 

“You are so, so smart Billy,” Susan said, her eyes bright with tears and a big, emotional smile on her face. “I’m so sorry these didn’t get to you sooner, that someone tried to throw them away. They’re here though. They’re right there and you can do anything you want. Anything, just like you always should have.”

Billy still had the damaged Stanford letter in his hands in a death grip as he looked over at Steve, eyes more than just bright, blinking tears onto his face. He was smiling so hard it made his cheeks hurt but he couldn’t stop, not even knowing Neil had made such a conscious effort to hide them. 

“I got—in. To all of them.”

***

“Holy crap – holy crap, Billy – oh my god,” Steve was grinning, all white teeth and bright eyes, laughing when Billy turned those tear damp lashes up to him, his blue eyes bright as the ocean and just as full of saltwater – tears slipping down his cheeks. “Of course you got into all of them!” He was still laughing, thrilled, pulling him into a hug around the shoulders and laughing against his ear. Arms looped tight. “Of course you did! That’s incredible!”

And he knew, in the back of his mind, in some small, quiet, reserved and sectioned off piece, that there was something in that. Something that he would need to inspect more carefully, later, alone. 

But now wasn’t that time. It was just the time to be happy, ecstatic, thrilled. 

He leaned over to touch a few of the papers, one arm still looped around Billy’s shoulders in a casual gesture, touching at the papers like they might crumble if he wasn’t careful. 

“Woah I didn’t know you applied to so many – Stanford – that’s the one you really wanted, right? Oh man, just – congrats. Congratulations.” He breathed, turning his eyes back up to Billy, eyes soft. “You deserve it.”

Mike Wheeler was leaning over the table, his mouth still blue with frosting, inspecting the papers as well. “These are a lot of really good schools.” He said slowly, looking up at Billy with a genuinely surprised face. “This is really, really good.”

“My brother is a genius.” Max pushed him in the shoulder. “Don’t act so surprised! I told you that.”

“Which one are you gonna pick?” Lucas asked, coming up behind Max, and looking over her shoulder at the papers.

“He doesn’t need to pick right now.” Steve said, shaking his head. “He has time to decide.”

***

Billy exhaled hard through his mouth, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve and looking around at everyone. He was still smiling and thought maybe his face would just be stuck in this limbo of mortification and unbridled happiness forever, thought maybe it wasn’t that terrible. Everyone around him just sort of—took him as he was now, even the kids. Fucking weird but made him crying over a coffee stained piece of paper a little easier to deal with. 

“Yeah I—don’t know I guess, not yet,” he said, thinking about all of the half formed plans he’d had for leaving, knowing he would’ve stayed with Neil around. He shook his head and the thought went with it, eyes dropping to put surgical precision into folding the acceptance letters back up, slipping them into the Manila envelope again. “Susan, Hop, thanks for finding them. And uh, everybody—just—thanks, everybody. For everything.”

***

“You shoulda seen those a long time ago.” Hop nodded. “But better late than never. You do somethin’ with ‘em, alright? All I’m asking.” He said, like he remembered – remembered when they’d been talking at Steve’s house, and Billy was gonna stay. And Hop had told him to go – to use it, use his smarts. It was still true, Neil or no Neil.

Steve stood up from his seat at Billy’s side and moved towards one of the tables where some presents were tucked away. Some were smaller and haphazardly wrapped in newspaper pages from the funnies, and a much larger, heavier one – wrapped in sparkly, foil blue wrapping paper and tied up in twine - with a really obnoxious, curly bow on the top. The two smaller ones were obviously probably clearly from the kids, or Max - with heaping amounts of tape.

“These are for you too.” Steve smiled, waving at the pile of presents he’d piled onto the table in front of Billy – alongside the manila envelope and discarded paper cake plates.

“The one with Garfield on it is from us!” Dustin declared, pointing so Billy wouldn’t get them mixed up. “Minus Will because obviously.”

Max also added a box-shaped present to the pile, along with a mysterious big box from Hopper, a tiny little bag from El, and a clothing box from Susan - all wrapped in an array of paper.

***

Billy reached for the small muslin bag first, looking around until the girl—El, perked up. Her then. He turned it on its side until something smooth landed in his palm, some sort of striped agate as big as a half dollar coin. 

“It’s called a blue lace agate,” El said proudly, leaning in closer. She rested a hand easily over Billy’s chest which made him blink before relaxing, her hand firm for being so little. “It’s good for your heart and it looks like your eyes when they’re happy. Like right now.”

Billy moved on after giving El a small smile, tucking the rock into his jacket pocket and buttoning it closed. Close to his heart just in case it worked. Not that he believed in shit like that, it was just a nice idea. That’s all, something mom would’ve liked. 

The next thing he opened was the box from Susan, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline when he pulled out a black leather jacket. A new one, not cracked and broken in like the brown one he wore so much. When he looked at Susan she looked a little embarrassed, waving her hand. 

“I might’ve gone a little overboard with my first paycheck as a real working la—“

Billy interrupted her by standing up so quick he almost knocked his chair over, hugging her tight to his chest. He melted into it even if he was the one to start it, the memory of that terrible night in the trailer filtering through. All of that shit had been worth it if it meant everything she’d said that night was true, and it was. It was impossible not to feel how much she loved him. Like a mom. 

***

“Open our present now!” Lucas demanded, shoving the little awkwardly shaped, funnies-wrapped present towards him. 

“No way Stalker, mine first – I’m family you’re just the love interest.” Max hip checked him to the side and replaced the present with her own bigger, obviously box-shaped thing. 

“You’re gonna love them and they even go with your cool new jacket and please tell me you love them okay I think you will.” Max said at a million miles per minute, bouncing on the toes of her chucks and nudging the box a little closer on the table. Like if Billy didn’t open it, it was possibly a ticking time bomb that would explode. 

She shoved her frizzy hair behind her ears when it got in her face, the better to see his expression with, showing all of her teeth in an almost manic grin. 

***

Billy looked at Max warily, glancing at Steve and mouthing crazy lady. When he opened the box, however, he knew exactly why. He looked at her again, his eyes big and manic like her smile before tearing the box wide open and holding the rollerblades in his hand. 

“God, I fucking missed these,” he said, shaking them in a way that clearly made no sense to any of the Midwest wet blankets around him. “I used to fucking blade every day. Every day, Steve. Jesus Max, these are new. How’d you manage that?”

***

Steve’s eyes went wide, although he didn’t quite know what to make of them – but he was happy if Billy was happy, and he laughed a little at them both freaking out. He got a kick out of those two together sometimes, when they were just super in sync and on the same wavelength. Like when they had the same expressions or said some of the same stuff. 

He leaned forward a little, stroking his fingers over the still-stiff leather of Billy’s new jacket – not worn in yet, or butter soft, but it would be. He wanted to see Billy in it. The way he’d pull the ends of his mullet out of the collar when he put it on, flipping his hair out with that flourish. 

He admired the black skates, too, even though he didn’t know very much about them to be honest. The sidewalks here were so cracked that you couldn’t really skate on them, and the closest roller rink was over in Kearney County, and Steve’d just never really learned. He tried a few times when he was a kid, with the brown and orange rental skates, but he’d spent the whole time clinging to the carpet wall. 

“Those’re really cool skates,” He glanced up and didn’t quite process her offended look. “Er- what?” He blinked back at her.

She gave Billy a look like, ‘THIS is your boyfriend? Honestly?’

“Ugh, nothing. And well, mom maybe helped a little. But I used all my savings and got MOST of it. Mom said you won’t outgrow them this time so it’s a better ‘investment.’” She made air quotations at investment. 

“Well it’s not roller blades or whatever but here - now can he open ours?” Lucas asked Max, cautiously sliding Billy the gift. 

Max shrugged, pleased that Billy had liked hers, and that’s what was important. “Whatever.”

***

Billy reached out to squeeze at Max’s arm for a thank you, bizarrely not wanting to embarrass her too much or make her hug him. He was getting fucking soft and he knew it. Steve still looking all moon eyed at him told him that. 

He picked the gift up and carefully opened it, noting how thin it felt. Underneath the newspaper was something like a scroll of laminated paper, filled with different shapes with words inside of them. At the very top it read Billy the Barbarian and Lucas was quick to step in closer. 

“Your dexterity and strength are pretty high,” Lucas said, pointing around the paper excitedly. “Your wisdom isn’t but that’s because we didn’t know you were like, a genius level dick. It’s gonna take a super long time to explain but we’re about to start a new campaign so you could come over with Steve this weekend if you. It’s very nuanced but I think if you take a look at—“

“Thanks man,” Billy said, noting the way the Wheeler kid was already starting to roll his eyes, smelling a bickering match a mile away. He shook Lucas’s hand firmly just like when he’d apologized, some weird male bonding ritual Lucas seemed super serious about. “You can tell me about it this weekend. You got a sheet too Steve?”

***

“Oh yeah! I’m a ‘Fighter.’ “ Steve grinned, winking at him. “I wanted Ninja but – “

“But that’s not a THING.” Mike reprimanded. Again.

“That’s not a thing.” Steve agreed, rolled his eyes. “But ‘fighter’ seems close. I’ll show you my sheet when you come over.”

“It’s closer to ‘adventurer,’ or ‘protector,’ Steve,” Dustin said mildly, like they’d had this discussion before. “Think Indiana Jones.”

“That’s cool too.” Steve nodded with a shrug. “I like Indiana Jones.”

“This here is for you, too. From me an’ the kid, both, along with her rock.” Hopper nodded towards the way oversized box at his feet, tapping the edge of the wrapped up cardboard with the toe of his cowboy boot. 

***

Billy looked up and over his shoulder at Hopper and then at the box, standing up to lug it over. It was heavy. Not too heavy for him to move but still, really fucking heavy. He waved away Steve’s help but still got it, could swear he could hear Steve thinking your ribs Billy as they moved it closer. It took him opening the top to realize what they were. Bose speakers, the good ones. Square and brown with wood lining them, too special to take all the way out. 

“Are you...sure?” he said, looking up at Hopper from where he was crouched over the box, both hands touching them like he didn’t want to let go. “You’re serious?”

***

“’course I’m serious.” Hop gave him a prickly pear smile with all of his grizzly beard that was growing in, looping a thumb through one belt loop. 

Steve was hovering at Billy’s side like a pecky mother hen, worried about his ribs – he didn’t need to be lifting any heavy shit.

“And I’m definitely sure. You gotta have somethin’ to listen to what else is in there.” Hop nodded a little towards the box, bushy eyebrows lifting as he smoothed a hand over his hair – slicking it back like an old habit. “Keep diggin’.” 

***

Billy frowned and looked back down at the box, feeling around the sides until his fingers closed on a familiar shape. The record he pulled out was called Songs of Leonard Cohen and the guy on the front looked familiar, like maybe his mom had a record or two around when he was little. He smiled down at it at the possible memory, the expression faltering as he looked up. 

“I don’t have a stereo anymore,” he said guiltily, his eyes flicking toward Steve self consciously as he set the record in his lap, fingers fidgeting with the corners. “It got broken a few months ago.”

***

Steve had been crouching alongside Billy, and at Billy’s comment about his stereo – the one that broke his back, the one that Steve thought had been a truck or a bus – Steve hid his mouth against his arm. His arms were looped around his knees, where he pressed his mouth briefly into the soft inner curve of his upper arm. Hiding a brief smile, not at Billy losing the old one – but for the promise of a new one. 

Steve didn’t say anything – he simply stood, and slipped the bright foil blue package off of the edge of the card table. It was also heavy as shit, and he wasn’t letting Billy mess around with it again. He lowered it down onto the old spring brown grass alongside the box of speakers, and gestured wordlessly with long, graceful fingers for Billy to have at it. Everybody seemed to be watching, waiting. Even the kids had shut up, which was kind of a miracle. 

***

Billy opened the box as carefully as he could, worlds more careful than he’d opened anything else. When he’d slipped the foil wrapping off he sat down right on his ass, no hope of being able to even crouch anymore. He ran his hands along it reverently, the threat of crying in front of a bunch of people looming not far off again. 

“It’s—I—“

He didn’t know what to say. It was a stereo, brand new and better than the one Neil had cracked right over his back. The wood paneling matched the speakers and the box showed a vinyl player, radio, and tape decks all in one. It was the nicest thing he’d ever seen in his life, months without music finally over, no threat of this one being broken hanging over him. 

Everybody was still quiet for a minute even if Billy knew none of them could begin to comprehend how massive this was to him, what happened to the last one and why it was so important. He set his elbow on a bent knee and extricated a hand to hide some of his face, the other still moving over the box while he sniffed harshly. 

***

Steve rocked towards him on the toes of his Nike’s, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and knocking their heads together gently – just glancing their crowns against one another. 

“I made sure to get one with two tape decks so you can make mix tapes, too. Hope you like it. Happy birthday, Billy.” 

“Happy Birthday!” was echoed all around, and everybody sort of scattered to start helping clean up when Susan started directing them around to give Billy a moment to gather himself. 

Hop squatted down next to Billy, and patted him on the back with that big hand, crinkles forming along his laughter lines, “Heard you could use some music – these’ll help you with that just great. You let me know if you need help hooking anything up.” He clapped his back again and then stood to start helping Susan with things, and cleaning up the grill before it cooled.

“New year, new life, new stereo.” Steve said quietly while everybody busied themselves around them. “You wanna come over to my place tonight? We can hook it up and give it a try.”

***

Billy didn’t have to say yes but he did it anyway, half a dozen times with his arms around Steve’s neck after sprinting up to a standing position. He was thankful for everyone scattering around the yard, feeling weepy and embarrassed but ridiculously happy in a way he couldn’t recall feeling before now. Before Steve. 

Susan gathered his presents up and told him to go have fun, everyone giving him passing touches he didn’t flinch from for once. He took them as they were, well wishes and goodbyes, Happy Birthday in his ear over and over until he was following Steve to the Beamer. 

“I can help a little,” he said, watching Steve and Hopper carry the stereo and speakers out to the car. “Seriously, you don’t have to do it all. I can lift shit now. Steve, c’mon. I’m gonna get flabby if I don’t.”

***

Steve shook his head over his shoulder as he nudged the car door open with his foot and stuck his entire upper body in the car to ease the stereo box into the backseat. 

“Nope,” He called to Billy. “Too heavy. Don’t care.” He pulled his head back out from the BMW again to accept the box full of speakers from Hop – sliding them in next to the stereo. “The doctor cleared you for basketball, not lifting heavy shit. Nothing wrong with being a little softer here and there.” Steve pointed out, then gave Hop a quick hug, having to get up on his toes a little ‘cause Hop was that much taller than him. The guy was a beast. “Thanks again for everything, Hopper. Everything off the grill was great, and just, those letters – and the speakers – just, thanks.” He said into Hop’s killer Hawaiian shirt before he eased back onto his heels.

“No sweat, kid. Was happy to help, just sorry I couldn’t do more. You be safe on the drive over. Don’t get into too much trouble.” He glanced over at Billy and held his arms out for a hug as well, letting Billy come to him only if he wanted – not pushing anything on him. “And I mean it – you radio me if you need help with those cords.” 

***

Billy hesitated for a split second before moving over to Hopper, accepting the hug but having a hard time returning it. It didn’t seem like Hopper minded much, in fact he could feel himself being squeezed even harder, a big palm resting on the side of his head to bring him in. He could’ve stood there forever but made himself move away, nodding at Hopper’s offer. 

After another wave goodbye he slipped into the passenger seat, buckling up and twisting in his spot to look in the back. It was his stereo, all brand new, his. 

“What’ve you got planned?” he asked, eyes still on the speakers before he looked at Steve, another happy smile crossing his face. 

***

Steve grinned over at Billy – the sun was setting now, darkening the world of Hawkins around them, and he flicked on his lights – make the dash glow green. Lighting them up, too. 

“Nothing too much – thought you might wanna relax? I’ve got some beers in the fridge, and I had Max grab a few of your favorite records out of your room, and a couple tapes. Figured we could just jam out for a while, shoot the shit and – “ he shrugged a little, smiling this secret close lipped smile over the steering wheel as he kept his eyes on the road. “Y’know. Other things. Special birthday boy things, maybe.” Like birthday blow jobs, maybe.

When they pulled up the long drive to Steve’s house, Steve had to shoo Billy away from the boxes again – hefting the speakers up into his arms first, because they were bigger and heavier. He scolded Billy about not touching the stereo until Steve got it inside, but he couldn’t lift both at once. Propping his chin on top of the box, he tried to get a good look at the red front door.

“Can you just get the door?” He asked over the cardboard top. He hadn’t really thought that out. “My keys – “ 

***

“Got ‘em,” Billy said quickly, special birthday boy things clouding his brain. He reached into Steve’s Members Only jacket and pulled the keys out, propping the door open to let Steve in. 

He kicked his boots off and slid out of his new leather jacket, wandering around the house while Steve went out to get the stereo. It felt like it had been ages since Billy got to be here, sequestered to his new house for medical shit and then because he didn’t feel like doing much of anything at all. Steve had spent so much time at his place that he’d nearly forgotten the things he liked about Steve’s. Like the baby pictures. 

“God, braces,” he said as he heard Steve come in, up on his toes to get a better look. “I bet you still got chicks even with those. Cute.”

***

“Thanks,” Steve groaned as he shuffled over to the sofa, lugging the heavy ass box and wrinkling his nose – now fading with bruises, all yellow and green at the edges, mottled with purple. He settled the box down at the foot of the couch, close enough to the wall that it could be plugged in – close to the empty, dark fireplace. 

“Yikes, I wish she would take some of those down. Please don’t look. Definitely not cute. More like goofy.” He moaned, easing his Nikes off now by the front door – even if he’d just walked all over the living room in them. He hung up his Members Only jacket by the front door on the coat hanger, then walked over to ease up behind Billy. Two long, lanky arms slithered around Billy’s middle as Steve tucked his chin over his shoulder, pressing a brief kiss to that soft neck. His broad chest up against Billy’s shoulder blades, pointedly not looking at the photo on the wall of Steve looking absolutely god awful. 

“I’m gonna grab some beers.” He murmured into Billy’s ear. “Do you want me to get a knife or scissors or something so you can open the box?”

***

“Nah sweetheart, already got one,” Billy said, reaching into his front pocket. It took longer than it usually would have because Steve was pressed up so nicely against him and he had to take the opportunity to arch his ass back, even just for a second. Then he finally dug his keys out of his pocket, fingers separating keys and flipping the little switchblade he carried out. “You go on.”

He slipped out of Steve’s hold and crouched back down in front of the boxes, flipping his curls over his neck and smiling at the ghost of a kiss still there on his skin. Then he got to opening the stereo up, refraining from lifting the damn thing out of the box. Even if Steve was out of the room and he did it Billy would bet anything he could sense it. Fuckin’ mother hen. 

***

Steve padded back into the living room in his Nike brand socks, holding two brown glass bottles of beer by the necks, the tops already popped – he set them down alongside Billy on the coffee table, then knelt by the boxes. He grasped the edges of the stereo where the styrofoam held it in place, frowning a little at the weight and then very slowly lowered it down onto the carpet. Then, the speakers. Didn’t want to ding anything. When he stuck his head back in the boxes, he let out a low whistle and pulled out a mess of cords from each.

“Jesus Hopper wasn’t kidding.” He laughed, the bundle of cords hanging from his hands.

It was sad, because, his first instinct was to call Bob at the radio shack – but there was no Bob, and he’d been the franchise owner, so that Radio Shack wasn’t there anymore either. Apparently a new one would be opening in the mall, but…it wasn’t the same. His smile faltered and fell and he set the pile into Billy’s lap and then started hunting for the owners manuals. 

They were there, in plastic sleeves, and he took a swig of his beer while squinted at the damn things, a furrow forming at his brow. The stereo manual was almost the same thickness as a paperback. 

“Okay wait, swap?” He offered the manuals, holding out a hand for the cords instead. Billy could read and Steve could plug shit in. 

***

“No no, I got it,” Billy said with a shake of his head, waving the manuals off and smiling a little. “You sit back and chill out for a second, won’t take me that long.”

It ended up taking about twenty minutes which honestly a bit of a record. He tried to show Steve that you connect each component to the receiver and the receiver to the speakers but he could see the absolute lack of interest on Steve’s face and gave up after a while. Suddenly he realized that this must be how the Henderson kid felt and groaned at their unwilling connection. 

“This would take seriously hours any other time. I’m gonna be lost to the world when I put it in my room,” he said over his shoulder, leaning up and over the stereo to give everything one last check, a long strip of skin on display while his jacket and shirt rode up. “But it should be okay. Ready?”

***

Steve did sit back, and watched Billy work – sipping at his beer where he leaned against the leg of the couch, one knee drawn up to his chest – admiring the way Billy worked with such intensity. But when he kept going on to Steve about what he was doing, honestly, it totally went over his head and he’d just idly tip the bottle back and nod and try to look interested. Steve was pretty glad that Billy knew how to do all that stuff, and he didn’t have to call up the ‘AV club’ or Hopper or whatever. He wasn’t the least bit surprised, honestly, Billy was super smart. 

When Billy was finally finishing up, Steve’s eyes lingered on the exposed skin where his clothing rode up, and he took another brief sip – before realizing his bottle was empty. He set it on the coffee table with a clink next to Billy’s full one. He scooched forward on his knees, examining Billy’s handiwork.

“I’m really glad you like it - you can still take all the time you want to. But yeah! If you’re sure you’re done, totally ready.” He grabbed a small grocery bag that was leaning against the end of the couch and held it out to Billy – it had the few records from his house, and the cassette tapes that Max had snuck out. Steve had been in a bit of a rush and hadn’t gotten the chance to actually look at them yet, he’d had so much to do. “These are the things Max grabbed for tonight,” he explained. 

***

“There’s a joke about Metallica in here somewhere, I can just feel it,” Billy said, rifling through the handful of records and tapes. He pulled out Marquee Moon to start, smiling down at it as he slid the record out of the sleeve. “Like this one a lot, you heard ‘em?”

Setting down the needle was like saying hi to an old friend, fingers delicate in a way they never were usually. When the music crackled on he sat back on his heels, not realizing how much he’d missed it until he was looking at all of it. He scooted back to be right next to Steve and admired it, reaching to take a long swig of his beer. 

“I really, really fucking missed music.”

***

“I had a feeling you did - now you can listen to it anytime you want.” Steve said, reaching out to snag Billy’s hand when he got close enough, settling against the couch with him. He leaned in to brush their shoulders together, eyeing the stereo as the record spun in place – the scratchy, but high quality sound spilling out of the speakers. 

“Sorry – I wanted to get you a stereo sooner, right after I found out what happened to your old one. But I also wanted to get you something special for your birthday, so…” 

He interlaced their fingers a bit more securely, head lolling against Billy’s shoulder as his gaze drifted around the living room. Knee bouncing along to the beat. The single beer had made him just relaxed enough, and there was nothing better than sitting here with Billy, enjoying his music - well, plus what would come later. “I haven’t heard them before – but I like it. Happy birthday, babe.” 

***

Billy pressed a kiss to Steve’s hair after finishing his beer, setting it on the table and moving back to Steve’s side. He laced both sets of fingers together and set his head on top of Steve’s, closing his eyes and letting the sound of his music out of his stereo fill his senses. He wondered when Steve had found the time to go get it with how busy he was but tried not to think about it too much, didn’t want to feel guilty for a present even if it was his quickest urge. 

“Thanks, sweetheart. For all of it,” he said softly, kicking his legs out in front of him and relaxing as fully as he could, eyes still closed. “You’re like, the perfect guy. You know that?”

***

Steve hummed at the feeling of Billy pressing a kiss into his hair, and he snuggled a little closer against Billy’s shoulder – letting out a long sigh, almost like of relief, at how perfect the moment was. What he’d wanted it to be, really.

“You don’t have to say thanks. This is just want people do when they love you – it’s your birthday. And I love you - very much.” He murmured. “But, you’re welcome. Always.” 

He cracked an eye open, smiling down at where Billy’s legs kicked out in front of him, really letting his hair down. Again, something Steve had hoped for. Relaxed, happy, Billy. He knocked their socked feet together with the leg that wasn’t drawn up to his chest.

“You’re such a charmer. You know you’re already getting lucky tonight.” He let out a low laugh and tilted his head just enough to brush his lips over Billy’s sandpaper cheek. 

***

Billy made a sound of shocked offense, pulling back a little even if that tiny kiss on his cheek had him smiling. He tried to hide it by looking surprised, one hand rested on his chest like he was wounded. 

“Me? I would never,” he said, his feline smile making its way through despite his best efforts. “I’m not the guy that put the stereo by the fireplace. You’re the one doing moves—planning a party and getting me all this great shit. Taking me back to your house to ruin my virtue.”

***

Steve let out more of a throaty laugh, more of a belly laugh that showed all of his teeth and had him stirring against Billy as he straightened up, bracing an elbow as he placed his palm against the carpet in between them – leaning forward a little where Billy pulled back. The picture of violated innocence. 

“I didn’t even light the fireplace!” He laughed, all obstinate. “But hey I have the best moves.” He kept leaning in, long lashes flicking up as he looked into Billy’s eyes – watching as that tigers smile reached them, made them shine like the quarry in summer. “Are they working? Or should I get the fire going?”

He tried to keep the laughter from his voice, tried to make it sound sultry, but it was pretty difficult. 

***

“Yes, yes they are,” Billy said honestly, even if he was grinning at Steve’s bedroom voice. 

The way Steve was leaning forward was enough for him, honestly. He was easy when it came to Steve and he knew it. He consciously leaned back against one hand just a little more, just enough to get Steve almost leaning over him. Then he batted his eyelashes, a move just as put on as Steve’s voice but still genuine underneath. 

“You gonna give me an even nicer present than a stereo, sweetheart?”

***

“Mhm,” Steve nodded a little, biting at his lower lip like he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into Billy instead – and he kept leaning, as Billy kept going back, until he was so far against the couch that Steve had to swing a leg over him to keep him from going anywhere. He settled into Billy’s lap, lowering over him with a little smile playing at the corner of his lips. His mouth was already parting the second it met Billy’s, his tongue eager – gliding cooly along Billy’s lower lip before he caught it between his teeth – drawing it back until it slipped from their grasp again. 

Brown locks curled down over his forehead as his fingers headed south, spilling into the split of Billy’s unbuttoned shirt – fingertips exploring the tantalizing skin there, between the lapels of his amazing new leather jacket. “Wanna take off your jacket and stay a while?” He breathed into Billy’s mouth, sharing air, feeling for Billy’s heartbeat - his own already picking up. 

***

Billy slipped out of his jacket sleeves with an amused look on his face, his eyes on Steve’s mouth. The last time someone had been in his lap like this, or any time someone was in his lap like this, things were a lot different. The hands dipping into his shirt had fake nails and he could practically taste the Aussie hairspray permeating the room. He also hadn’t felt anything at all for them, and maybe now that was alright. 

“Love you,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. He slipped a hand up under the back of Steve’s shirt, fingers idly counting the notches of his spine while the other moved to Steve’s hair, no one else around so no reason not to mess it up. “So much.”

***

Steve’s lashes fluttered as he tipped his head back into Billy’s touch, the callused fingertips against his scalp, sighing at the contact. Shivering where even more fingers trailed up his spine, playing the vertebrae like piano keys. 

His lips ghosted over Billy’s when he replied, saying “I love you too. I’ve never…never loved anyone like this. As much as you. Never,” like an admission. And maybe it was. His tongue darted out again to run over Billy’s lower lip, try to coax Billy’s own out to play.

Steve rolled his hips against Billy’s where he perched in his lap, grinding down lightly where he was already hard – his fingers curling against that mostly-healed rib cage on either side, still soft as feather down so as not to jostle him. 

The music washed over them like an afterthought, with the same heady kind of vibrations you got from being too close to the speakers at a party. Keeping up with the beat of his heart.

***

Billy nodded, Steve’s words altogether intoxicating, made more dizzying by his touch. He let a stuttered breath out into Steve’s mouth, his hand fisting in Steve’s hair as he rolled his hips up in return. The kiss was more than easy to start up, about as refreshing as a breath of fresh air.

“Never,” he sighed in agreement, moaning softly at the unmistakable feeling of Steve’s cock, sorely fucking missed. “Want you sweetheart. What’s the plan?”

He’d never loved anyone at all, not really. Maybe that was a gift too, that his first love would be one that completely blew everything out of the fucking water. One that felt like something he couldn’t quite fathom, the trajectory long and important and earth shattering. It made what should’ve just been a makeout session something that had him panting in seconds, edging forward for something, anything. 

***

Steve’s sudden smile was broad against Billy’s mouth at the question, smiling into the kiss, nothing but smiles before he pulled back from the kiss for a second, just enough to speak – his lips already feeling tingly and fuller than normal from the much-needed attention. 

“Been wanting to kiss you like that all day,” he panted, licking his lips, feeling them buzz. “Plan – I was thinking maybe we could start off with a little birthday blow job,” He was still smiling, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly excited – in more ways than one. Straining against his jeans, and eager to touch Billy. 

“Then we can play it by ear? It’s your birthday, so I – figured you could tell me what you want to do. What you want me to do. It’s your night, baby, it’s all up to you. Whatever you want.” 

He got back into Billy’s space and mouthed messily at his throat – which was finally starting to look healed enough that he felt comfortable with it. Licking against his skin and waiting for a reply, while he fumbled with Billy’s belt buckle. It clinked as he worked at it with both hands, dipping them down low enough to hamper some of their contact. 

***

“Jesus I—oh my god,” Billy said, eyelids fluttering at the lips on his neck. It had been fucking forever since he’d gotten to feel it and he felt so eager he was sure he looked like a dog getting scratched just right. “The spot—by my ear, missed your mouth.”

It was his birthday after all, and Steve did say it was whatever he wanted. And sure, yes, blowjob but first—more of that. He tipped his head back and carded his fingers through Steve’s hair reverently, both hands tangled in it now. He heard his belt click and then it was open, Steve’s hands roaming and his hips rising to accommodate them. 

***

Steve perked up a little at that, at drawing that kind of reaction out of Billy. He definitely wanted more of that. 

So he drew his hands to the edges of Billy’s hipbones, swiping his thumbs over the beginnings of his Adonis’ belt muscles, where they began the V shape. Didn’t go any farther south than that.

He decided to get Billy a little more worked up before he touched too much. So he glided his thumbs over the hard ridge of muscle, and worked his tongue along Billy’s throat like he asked – the hot tip of it making a trail up to the spot just below Billy’s earlobe. He pressed a chaste kiss to the square end of Billy’s jawbone, then worked an entirely different, open mouthed kiss into the juncture. Nosing passed his curls.

He lapped at Billy throat, tickling at the sensitive nerves there, nibbling a bit with his teeth, “Here?” Steve breathed into his ear, all hot, throaty breath, before he drew his earlobe into the heat of his mouth. His hands mapped over the flat of Billy’s stomach to undo the last few buttons of his shirt, pushing the flaps of it impatiently to the sides to give him better access. 

He tipped his head back just enough to dip his middle finger into his mouth, bringing it away wet with spit, before he started sucking into Billy’s throat. Really focusing on drawing the blood to the surface of his skin, creating a little seal of his mouth, and sucking. Making a mark that actually belonged there.  
Meanwhile, Steve used those slick fingers to twist around Billy’s right nipple, thumbing over the rigid bump of it. And his hips were slowly grinding down to meet his, making that now-loose belt buckle go crazy. He worked his hips down just right, in long, achingly slow movements, working to graze his denim-clad, hard cock against Billy’s. Shivering a little when he managed it, that, and at the hands that were tangled in his hair. 

Pressing down, rutting down, sucking, and pinching all at once. 

***

Billy thought he must’ve responded, some tipsy sounding uh huh but his head felt like static. Every touch felt like it was making him hum, turning him boneless. He remembered saying like my tits? to Steve once, just to be a brat, but there was a grain of truth to it. Well, more than. He’d always liked having his chest touched as long as the hands were big and sure, just like the ones he had now. 

His head lolled back onto the edge of the couch, soft whines leaving him with each touch. He couldn’t keep his hands out of Steve’s hair and was too distracted to move them, shoved right under Steve’s microscope. And damn if Steve didn’t love fucking examining him. 

“Pretty?”

***

“So pretty,” Steve murmured against Billy’s throat, all in agreement. He pulled back a little to touch the tip of his nose to the purple mark he’d left – one left out of love, not anger, so unlike the ones that were fading. 

He kissed his way down Billy’s neck, following the line of his tendon, to the angle of his adam’s apple, to the soft hollow of his throat. He left a trail of kisses, really. Along Billy’s collarbone, down the arrow of his breastbone pointing ‘down.’ He crept backwards so that he could keep going farther, kissing the smooth rolls of Billy’s stomach from where he was sitting, briefly licking against his navel. His fingers followed the path his mouth set. Paying Billy all the attention in the world. Fluttering over his skin like he was precious, like he was to be cherished, and that’s exactly what Steve planned to do. It’s what he was doing. 

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He said against Billy’s treasure trail, looking up at him from below with big, dark, pupil blown eyes. 

***

Billy thought it might be easier with his jeans all the way off but he was too eager to even consider stopping to adjust. The idea of Steve just taking his dick out and sucking it had it twitching hard, a wet spot forming through the front of his denim. It was a little embarrassing, made his breath hitch when he felt it, but the kind that just spiked his arousal more. 

Hearing he was pretty didn’t hurt. Neither did steve looking up at him like that. 

He moved a hand to steady himself against the carpet, the memory of their first time on it sending a little shiver down his spine. The other moved over Steve’s cheek and stayed there, focusing on Steve’s face instead of the noises he was making. 

***

Steve smiled up at him like it was true – like there was nothing truer – for him, Billy was the prettiest thing. And he loved him. Like he was just his whole fucking world. 

“Love you.” 

He pressed that smile into a kiss on his belly, like pressing a seal into wax, then followed that treasure trail down like a treasure map. He pulled Billy’s cock out of his jeans like X marks the spot, hard and thrumming for attention under his palm. He’d never really understood the term gagging for it, but honestly, after meeting Billy – after sucking his cock before – he finally was really starting to understand it. To get it. Because he totally felt that way – when he pulled it out, and it looked so pink, and excited and perfect – hard for him, hard for Steve – it literally made his saliva glands kick in, with something like anticipation. 

He was already feeling too impatient to really yank Billy’s jeans down – so he pulled him out of his zipper – careful that he didn’t get bitten by the copper ridges – to admire for only a second. To build that anticipation for a second. 

He braced one hand on Billy’s thigh for balance, using the other one to curl around the base of his cock to protect it from the zipper.

Then he was sliding the flat of his tongue under the head, and lowering his mouth over that hot, wanting cock. The tip of it brushed against the ridges of the roof of his mouth, while his tongue lavved along the underside. He sealed his mouth up then and sucked in earnest, hollowing his cheeks almost immediately before he started to lower himself farther. Drawing that hard dick into the back of his mouth, and yeah, he fucking got it.

***

Billy definitely, without a fucking doubt couldn’t hear anything anymore. A long month and then some of Steve being adamant about him not tensing up his ribs made for an unreal amount of pent up sexual tension, all the bullshit they’d had to deal with aside. The second Steve’s mouth wrapped around his cock he was gasping, staring blankly up at the ceiling because if he looked down it would be over in no time at all. 

“Steve,” he said, some sort of prayer he repeated, feeling his cock twitch at each extra inch Steve decided to take. 

The hand on Steve’s cheek hadn’t moved and he could feel himself on the other side, thought if he couldn’t look at least he could touch. He stroked Steve’s cheekbone like some kind of thank you before his thumb ran along the seam of Steve’s upper lip, drifting to the corner and dipping inside. It was instantly coated in spit, trapped between Steve’s cheek and his own cock, precome dribbling out at just the image he was picturing. 

***

Steve took his name on repeat as egging him on, as confirmation that he was hopefully doing a good job. He bobbed up and down on Billy’s cock, trying to ease back his gag reflex to take in Billy as deep as he could – and he thought he was getting better at it, but, it’d been more than a month since he’d done this and he probably had to build up his tolerance again. 

He tried to relax his throat, to swallow him down as much as he could. But when that cockhead brushed the back of his throat, it made tears spring up at the corners of his eyes, and he’d bob back up, like a cork in the water. Licking at pre-come when he had to catch his breath.

When Billy’s thumb dipped into the corner of his mouth where it was stretched wide over his cock, Steve let out a low, vibrating moan at how hot it was – his own dick throbbing in his jeans. Practically fishhooked into the corner of his mouth, dribbling spit mixed with pre-come.

He was thinking about one of the first times Billy’d blown him – and almost like a memory in reverse, he reached up to grasp at Billy’s other hand, somewhere by the carpet – searching for his wrist – to draw his hand up to Steve’s big hair. He liked Billy’s hands in his hair, liked when he sort of directed him with it. Could get Steve to do anything that way – and he was thinking of that first time. He’d never done it like this before, let Billy take control.

***

Billy’s hips told him to buck up the moment he had his hand in Steve’s hair, a feeling he had to aggressively tamp down. Instead he curled his fingers tight, gently easing Steve down on his cock in a slow rhythm, panting up at the ceiling, fighting to keep his hips still. His thumb moved out of Steve’s wet, perfect mouth to make it easier, smearing spit over his cheek. 

“Perfect, god you’re perfect,” he moaned, panting up at the ceiling. “Not—gonna last.”

***

Steve nodded a little messily on top of Billy’s cock, groaning around the long shaft of it in his mouth, brushing the back of his throat – the treble of it vibrating around the soft skin, heavy on Steve’s tongue. It was like assent, or even urging him on. Non-verbally asking him to come in his mouth, along with a muffled “mm-hmm,” taut lips reverberating with the hum of sound.

He let Billy lead his head, let him set the rhythm, but knowing he was close, he got his head going a little faster, breathing hard through his nose and blinking away tears. He ran the tip of his tongue along the slit when he pulled back far enough, tasting salt. Really sucking against the sensitive head, before trying to swallow Billy down as deep as he could manage.

At the same time, especially as Billy got closer, Steve had his knees on the carpet, on either side of Billy’s left leg. He was aching for contact, making a dark spot at the front of his jeans - and he pressed his hips down to rut against Billy’s wide lower thigh, for any kind of relief. So fucking turned on just by sucking Billy down, the sounds of his moans and wet panting in Steve’s ears. Even the sound of his own saliva slicking over skin, again and again like some kind of mantra. The way Billy’s cock twitched in his mouth, like a warning. The curl of Billy’s fingers in his hair, scraping against his scalp.

***

Billy’s moans got more frantic with each passing moment, too much happening to latch on to one thing. This was his biggest fantasy come true, every blowjob before this one made totally meaningless. He’d pictured Steve after the first time he’d seen him, soft brown hair and plush mouth, long fingers everywhere. The first one had been nice, more than nice, but Steve fucking Harrington blowing him on his birthday?

Definitely couldn’t have imagined that one for himself. 

His fingers curled tighter in Steve’s hair and he thrust his hips up more shallowly, not wanting to push but too turned on to stop moving. He could feel Steve’s dick behind his jeans, grinding into his leg like he couldn’t fucking help himself. It was all the incentive his orgasm needed, slamming right into him like a fucking semi, making him seize up before his strings got cut. 

***

There were plenty of little warning signs that clued Steve in, had him grinding a little more insistently against Billy’s thigh as he felt those fingers tug at his hair, felt the surefire pulse of Billy’s dick on his tongue. He gave a particularly hard draw of his mouth, before he was wincing as come hit the back of his throat and he was swallowing it down. 

He kept going, trying to work Billy through his orgasm, even as his hips stuttered up to meet Steve’s mouth. Then he went loose as it ended, puttering out, and Steve carefully cleaned away any remaining come with the tip of his tongue before pulling away. He could feel the way Billy shied away at the touch, oversensitive and softening in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Steve was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath, hair fraying wildly above his head as he canted his chin up to gaze at Billy. 

“Good?” He asked breathlessly, blinking back tears. His own hips had gone still, but still felt a little squirmy, like he couldn’t quite sit still. So hard he felt a little dizzy.

***

Billy laughed breathlessly and nodded like he was a little drunk, finally looking down at Steve. He let go of Steve’s hair to smooth it back a bit, reverent and careful while he collected himself. Felt like he couldn’t stop nodding, thinking good good good. 

“That’s one way to put it, Jesus fucking Christ, Happy Birthday to me,” he said with a smile, eyes moving down to Steve’s crotch and the vivid outline of his cock through his pants. “What do you wanna do with that, sweetheart? You wanna stand up, get my mouth? You’re kind of checking off all of my Steve Harrington Fantasies right now.”

***

Steve let out a breathy laugh and raised himself up onto his knees. He scooched forward on them, bringing his right leg over Billy’s hip to straddle him on either side – easily looping his arms around Billy’s shoulders against the sofa. Hands loosely tangled together behind the nape of his neck. The hard line of his cock, straining against the denim pretty uncomfortably, about level with Billy’s sternum. 

He looked down at the blonde, the rise and fall of his chest rapid in front of Billy’s face under his pale blue button up – each with a pearl snap up to his throat. At least he didn’t have a tie on like Dustin, but it had been a close thing. 

“You tell me,” he said in a low voice, from the back of his throat. Leaned down and pressed a kiss that tasted like Billy against a rough cheek. “What do you wanna do with it?” He’d meant it when he said that tonight was up to Billy – it was his birthday and he got to pick. The plan was up to him. He grinned a little against Billy’s skin. “What are some of your Steve Harrington Fantasies?”

***

Billy mulled it over, though it didn’t take long at all, seconds really. The kiss on his cheek was deceptively soft compared to what Steve was saying, the tone of his voice making him shiver. Even if he hadn’t just come he knew he’d be boneless right now, one arm hanging at his side while his other hand found Steve’s cock to give it a squeeze. 

“Halloween party, first time I saw you,” he said, swallowing so hard he could hear his throat click, his thumb running over the wet spot on Steve’s jeans. “Wanted—pictured you. Pulling my hair and making me push my ass in the air, fucking me right into some fancy fucking floor like this one. That’s just one of them.”

***

Steve’s wet mouth gasped open as Billy finally got a hand on him, even through his jeans, hips surging forward into that touch all of their own accord. 

His grin cracked a little wider against Billy’s cheek before he let out a shuddering breath at the much needed contact, murmuring, “Really? You did? I – mmh,” the spot on his jeans grew just a bit as the attention to the head made his cock jump. 

Made his brain fuzzy, made it hard to think. 

“Je-sus,” he breathed, lashes fluttering as he tipped his hips forward for Billy’s palm, still on his knees. “I had to – take off my Ray-Ban’s. Thought you weren’t real, had to make sure – imagine, my surprise when I took them off and you were still that fucking gorgeous, huh?” 

He twined his arms even tighter around Billy’s neck, nodding a little mindlessly into the curls furling along the side of Billy’s face. Huffing into his ear.

“I’ll fuck you into the floor if you want me to, love. I’ll even pull your hair a little.” His words devolved into a teasing tone at the end, but he meant it. Anything Billy wanted. 

***

Billy smiled, humming happily at the memory. He hadn’t even said anything that night, couldn’t. Just let Tommy and the other guys gas him up, took his time looking, jutting his chin out at Steve like he was tough shit. What he’d really wanted to do was what he was doing now, what he got to have all of the time. 

“Uh huh, I want you to,” he cooed, both hands reaching for the front of Steve’s jeans. He popped the button open and unzipped out and down, careful not to snag. “Right now, sweetheart? Gonna give me mean Steve?”

Unlike himself, Steve was wearing underwear. He was a little busy staring off at nothing with glazed over eyes to look down but he knew what he’d see. Steve’s cock pressed against his Calvins, the wet spot more prominent there, the way it twitched in his hand when he finally snuck it down past the waistband. 

***

A weak, strangled sound started somewhere around Steve’s tonsils, which he choked right back down once Billy got his hand around him. He breathed out, having to draw his arms back – resting on Billy’s shoulders for balance as his dick jumped in Billy’s hand with excitement. He pulled his face away from where it’d rested alongside those curls, swallowing hard at Billy’s touch. His cock leaking even more with impatience.

“I’m never mean.” He gave a crooked smile, tilting his head, lowering his lashes. Anymore. Never mean anymore. Fuck he tried not to be. “But maybe I can be. A little. For you. Want you - right now.” 

Steve’s fingers scrabbled at the shoulders of Billy’s shirt – but he realized he was too impatient. He gave up on the shirt. Instead he started working at Billy’s jeans to try and shove them down, but jesus they were so tight. Billy said right now, and Steve agreed wholeheartedly, but what the fuck. 

***

Billy laughed at the frustrated look on Steve’s face, a little bratty despite himself. He set his hands on Steve’s chest and gently pushed him back for more room, shimmying out of his jeans as he stood. It was a practiced move and not many people could do it for him, sort of the price he had to pay to make his ass look that good. 

“C’mon sweetheart, just a little mean,” he said encouragingly, pushing down at the elastic and denim at Steve’s hips, trying to get him to step out too. “For me.”

***

When Billy stood, Steve did too – shaking his head a little with a fond smile as Billy had to shimmy his hips to get out of the damn things. He went to the end of the couch where he’d tucked a small bottle of lube into the end of the cushion in preparation – (ha, preparation) so that they wouldn’t have to use Billy’s handy wallet lube. 

He turned into Billy’s touch at his hips, pushing down at the already undone jeans. Steve helped ease them down, the bottle set aside on the coffee table. His CK’s, and unbuttoned shirt joined the mess of denim on the floor, leaving his dick - getting an angry sort of red from not being touched enough – to slip from it’s position against his stomach and bob heavy between his legs. 

He smiled coyly at Billy, just a little bit taller than the other boy, and reached out to twist him around in an almost pirouette. “Well if you insist,” He murmured in that low, rather husky voice from before. He leaned in and licked up the side of Billy’s neck, pulling the curls aside with one hand. That long body pressing up against Billy’s back, cock against his ass as Steve looped an arm around that thick waist. 

It was similar to when Billy’d looked at the photo earlier, but now, they were buck ass naked, and it was all skin against skin where Steve leaned. It was better. He let out a low sigh of something like relief at all of the skin to skin contact, and used that arm around Billy waist to lower them both to their knees. Kissing, biting at his neck, at the dangle of his earring, nothing but tongue and hot breath.

“Tell me where you want me.” 

***

Billy was going to answer right away, honest to god he fucking was. He sighed in kind, a hand reaching down to prop himself up on the carpet, the other moving over the muscled forearm around his waist. His eyelids fluttered and he tipped his head to the side, giving Steve’s clever mouth a little more room. Everywhere, all the time. Steve’s lips hit the spot he liked so much and he whined, hips arching back into the cock he felt pressed there. 

“Like—this, here,” he said, voice a little far off, eyes on the carpet he’d pictured so many times before and gotten laid out on that first night. His hand slid across Steve’s forearm and settled behind him, fingers digging into the side of Steve’s thigh. 

***

Steve memorized that little spot on Billy’s neck, a hot spot button to make sure to pay plenty of attention to. Where Billy’s fingers dug into Steve’s thigh, he grounded it alongside Billy’s waist where they both knelt on the carpet. 

He reluctantly let Billy go to grab the lube off the coffee table, drizzling it over extended fingertips. Then he leaned back over to trace oiled up fingers down the curve of Billy’s stomach, searching out his still mostly flaccid cock. Those warm, supple fingers slicked over it to start bringing it back to life as Steve kissed Billy’s shoulder, easing him forward with his own body. Getting him on his hands and knees. 

With the other hand, he followed the bumps of Billy’s spine all the way down to his tailbone, before sliding between the line of his cheeks. 

“Here?” He murmured, a total tease. But he didn’t let it last long before he dipped even lower, his index finger tracing over the puckered hole there.

***

Being with Steve made Billy feel untethered a lot of the time, all of the ugly shit in life of no consequence even if it was just a stone’s throw away. This, though, like this was different. He’d always liked it, toying with letting himself go slack, relinquishing something to someone else for a split second in time, some rushed handful of minutes in the dark. A hand on the back of his neck. It never lasted long, not before he was getting antsy or worse, ready to lash out. 

That wasn’t happening now. Billy couldn’t even picture it, wanting anything but this. His hands bracing himself on the carpet as he knelt, breathing hard with his eyes unfocused on what was in front of him. He nodded distantly, a distracted uh huh leaving his mouth, lips open and parted and staying that way. 

His hips rolled back into Steve’s hand and forward into the other, fingers curling and his breath picking up. It wasn’t taking any time at all to get him hard again, just the feeling of Steve’s back spread across him, his dick smeared against an ass cheek, all that was enough. More than. 

***

Steve knew that there was a fine line to be toed with Billy – and he was totally good with that, toeing a line, because he never wanted to make Billy feel uncomfortable. Not ever. He’d seen it happen before, and he didn’t want to be the cause of it again. Of that thing like panic, that empty thing. 

So even if Billy said ‘mean,’ and Steve would give him anything, it was more of an illusion of control. Because he would never force Billy into anything, never push to hard or making him think of any harsh hands of his past – not from Neil, and not from any of the mystery men he’d mentioned before. It would never be Steve. He would not be mean. He couldn’t be mean to someone he loved, especially not in bed – but he’d give Billy just the right amount of control that he was looking for. He could do that, and call it ‘mean.’ 

Steve kept his chest pressed up against that broad back as he stroked over Billy’s cock – pushing past the rim of Billy’s ass with the other hand. It was still just a little loose after having worked him open the past weekend, though the muscles were taut enough to fight him for a minute before he eased far enough up to his knuckle. He pressed his cheek to Billy’s upper back, between his shoulder blades, and let go of Billy’s cock to brace his forearm against Billy’s belly once more. Pressed there tight – holding him secure while he started to work him open. Keeping him on his hands and knees. With the illusion of control. 

***

Billy froze the movement of his hips, didn’t even try to budge. The arm across his stomach had him pressed right up against Steve’s front and he didn’t want to move, not ever again, not unless Steve said so. He held still and let one of Steve’s long fingers stretch him out but it wasn’t enough. 

It wasn’t enough but he didn’t quite have the words, busy panting for breath at just the implication of what would happen later, the evidence of it hard and hot against his ass. His cock gave a twitch hard enough to make the rest of him shudder but he still tried not to move, whining a silent plea for more. He could feel his curls start to stick to his face and was glad there was no fire to make it worse, just the beginnings of a new present enough to break a sweat. 

Like your sounds. He remembered Steve saying that once, twice, dozens of times by now. So he let go a little more, whimpered at the slightest curl of Steve’s finger inside of him. Let the ever present tension start to roll off of his shoulders, tried not to think about anything at all. 

***

Steve worked up to two fingers, scissoring them within the comforting, tight warmth, stretching him enough to fit Steve, instead – reaching and curving up, creating inviting ‘come hithers’ against that magical mystery spot. 

“Jesus yeah, let me hear you, babe.” Steve huffed against the dip of Billy’s shoulder blades. “Love you.”

The tendons of his forearm tensed with each glide of his arm, working Billy open with an edge of urgency – pressing kisses into Billy’s back. 

When he finally felt like he’d gotten him worked open enough, had him sweating, had him quivering in the hips, and making those sweet, mewling moans – Steve finally withdrew his fingers with a slick pop. 

He gathered himself behind Billy, braced on his knees between two muscled, laid out calves. Nudging them to the sides enough to get Billy really spread for him, then grasped at his hip with one hand. Leading himself to that waiting, anxious hole with the other. 

When just the head had slipped inside, Steve let out a low groan, trying to stop his hips from bucking forward – giving them both a second, distracting himself with a light sigh. Felt like fucking forever even if it’d only been a few days. He leaned over Billy then, grasping both hips now, carefully easing him back onto Steve’s dick at the same time Steve was steadily surging forward. Panting, sweat curling his hair up at the back of his neck.

“You feel so good, f-f..uck, you feel amazing.” 

***

Billy cried out, a low, petulant sound as he felt himself pulled back on Steve’s cock, instantly bowled over by it. He slid down onto his forearms and arched his back for more, sighing when he felt that familiar carpet under his skin. He wondered what he looked like, what they looked like then; his legs spread out by Steve’s, his ass up and pushing back greedily. It was a nice picture. 

“How good, sweetheart?” he said, head tilting to the side as he moaned into his upper arm, curls falling into his face. He rocked his hips back again to try and get Steve to bottom out inside of him, a blip of discomfort before he relaxed, arousal hitting him tenfold. “How good?”

***

Steve bit at his lip – he could still taste Billy’s come there - trying to take it slow and steady, a moan rattling in his chest. Moaning at how Billy’d cried out, because he ate up all of his sounds, and honestly, it had him aching for more. His eyelids fluttered closed, leaving him gasping, before they drowsily slid back open for a good look at Billy below him. Taking in the way his back arched low, giving Steve room for more. Fuck he looked so good, with his ass up in the air just for him. Once he was completely sheathed up to the hilt, Steve gave a small shudder of pleasure, felt it rock his whole core. 

He felt the second Billy started to relax, to push back against him, begging for more from him – and he was more than willing to give it. He slowly pulled back out, and then rocked back in, meeting the push of Billy’s hips. He did it again, almost as slow, but this time his hips snapped forward with a rush of desire. 

He remembered what Billy’d said, what he’d asked for. So with one hand still braced at his hip, he leaned forward enough that he was able to gently grasp at Billy’s long, fluffy mullet of curls. He tangled his fingers up in those gilded stands, just enough to tip Billy’s head back, make his adam’s apple jut out. Giving an almost delirious thrust forward and really rather, well, riding him. Sweaty skin slapping on skin. It made him feel almost giddy with it, punch drunk on his arousal, like he had electric glitter all over his skin.

“Babe – if you could fuck, like, velvet – you’d feel better. So much better.” His hand spasmed on Billy’s hip bone with a particularly good drag of his cock across fluttering muscles. “God I – missed this. Missed you.” He moaned, tightened his hand in Billy’s hair, really thrusting into him in earnest now, already out of breath again. “Always, - miss being in you.” 

***

Billy’s mouth dropped open as his hair was pulled back, a clipped little unh slipping out of it like he was getting a knot in his shoulders massaged just right. The tension was already on its way out but this sealed it, that passive and saccharine sweet part of him surfacing. He curled his fingers into the carpet and pushed back harder, sighing heavy and happy. 

So much better. He was good, better than velvet. It was like being an object, but one that was well loved. Cherished and held tight, fucked into like he was the greatest thing in the fucking world. 

He nodded but his head could barely move in Steve’s hold, groaning at the slight sting to his scalp and the way it made him bare his neck for Steve. Something he’d gladly do. 

***

Steve’s fingers were still careful in Billy’s hair, like the roots themselves could be fragile – he could be ‘mean’ but not mean, and skull fractures weren’t some joke, mostly healed or not. 

However, he did pick up more of an unforgiving pace, really giving himself over to it. 

The way Billy pushed back into him, the way he sounded happy with it, made it easier to really let his hips take control. Riding him down, into the carpet, setting a tempo to the music on the record player of the band he didn’t know, but he wasn’t really hearing the music, just the beat, and how it matched the thunder of his heart, and the smack of Billy’s ass against his groin, louder than the music really. Even when the needle finished it’s path with a disgruntled sound and rotated back to it’s holding spot, he didn’t really notice much. 

Their rhythm and tempo were more than enough for him.

(Carefully) tugging Billy’s head back on his neck, exposing his throat, and focusing on breathing – Steve’s mouth hung open, gone slack with the enormous fucking waves of pleasure that were washing over him with each flurried rush of his hips. That, and the love that steadied out each thrust. Because it wasn’t just some mindless fucking, even if was a lot rougher, a lot dirtier than their norm, maybe – just rougher, dirtier making love. 

And that’s what made Steve really so into it. Feelings and shit.

“Billy - B-Billy, oh god. Love you, love you baby - love you.” Steve gasped, lashes flickering, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off of Billy’s back. “So - so lucky, to have you… - so lucky. Want to give you, any, anything you want. Billy,” choking on the last word.

***

Billy’s head was fucking spinning with the juxtaposition of sensations, his whole body shivering. The pull against his scalp and the harsh smack of Steve’s hips, enough to turn his ass pink. The words Steve was saying, loving and reverent and sweet like Steve always always was, even like this. Even being rough with him, his own version of mean. 

“Steve, SteveSteveSteve,” was all he could say, gasping at the weight of the words being said to him. “Steve.”

His cock was throbbing between his legs and he couldn’t wait any longer, balancing on one forearm while the other reached back. When his fingers closed around his cock he was gasping for other reasons entirely, ones that made his eyes sting. The pleasure was fucking unreal and it was—it was fixing something inside of him. Something he didn’t even know was raw and sore. Someone kind with their hand in his hair, someone who loved him that he could stick his neck out to. 

***

Steve knew he wouldn’t last long. He’d already been way too raging hard when he’d been sucking Billy off, humping his leg like some wet behind the ears virgin, and this was way too much. He was completely and quickly overwhelmed. With way too much tension from the past month, and not enough ways to release it. The waves that were sloshing inside of him, all slow rising pleasure, were all building up to a crest, and it made his hips stutter with it. With anticipation, mindlessly chasing then. Fingers twitching where they’d coiled up in curls, and at the bump of Billy’s hip where he drew Billy back against him like a crescendo. 

He’d angled himself to hit Billy’s spot, or right abouts where he remembered it to be, punching into that same spot over and over on repeat once he felt like he’d found it. He was shivering with that crest building higher, so close to breaking, had him almost crying out. Working into Billy harder, faster, trying to mentally tell himself not to pull Billy’s hair any harder. He had to let go, grabbing for Billy’s shoulder instead for some kind of grip. Because he had fireworks exploding in his belly, zinging up his spine, and he felt something about to shake loose. 

“Billy – I – sh-shit , I – mmmmh – uh - “ he stuttered, breathing absolutely ragged.

***

Billy missed the hand in his hair but it was made better by being able to press his face into his free arm, panting and whimpering against his skin. The sounds got louder the better Steve’s thrusts became, the drags into his prostate making him shudder. 

He wanted to tell Steve he was close, that he was coming but he had no words. Just a choked version of Steve’s name as he flicked his wrist once, twice and came into his hand, palm slick and falling limp between his legs on the carpet. He kept his hips rolling back as much as he could, hungry for Steve’s orgasm almost more than he’d been chasing his own, arching his back and making his ass work for it. It had worked a million times before and if he was getting what he wanted he could slip into it a little. 

Just a little. 

***

As Steve felt Billy clench up around him with his orgasm, he tried to really pound into that one particular spot that felt like fire, that felt like flame, like when Billy’d been inside of Steve before. He remembered what that felt like. And he tried to work him through it, biting at his own lower lip to try and keep himself going – but once he felt Billy sag a little, still pressing back against him, working his fucking hips like sin, he – well. Steve was a total goner.

He let the wave crest, and he unsteadily thrust a few more times before he froze up, completely bottomed out. Head rolling back on his neck as he made a choking sound up at the ceiling. Fingers convulsing against Billy’s sweat slick skin as Steve emptied himself inside of him, release and revel. A few little twitches of his hips acted as aftershocks while he finally started to come down from that fucking high, easing back a little and then slumping forward. Still inside of that perfect ass, only going soft.

His cheek came to rest against Billy’s lower back as he curled around him. Gasping for air, and furling both arms around Billy’s belly. Face pressed messily into the curve of his spine, feeling sloppy and messy and boneless. Silly with post-orgasm high. Couldn’t even think, let alone just try to breath for a second. Gently stroking over Billy’s stomach, mindlessly. 

***

“Love you, I love you,” Billy cooed, humming softly at the fingers on his stomach. He sunk down lower onto his arm, bent over in half as he let his body relax, his nose running over his arm almost soothingly to himself. “Jesus.”

The feeling of Steve softening inside of him was joined by a shudder, come starting to run down his thigh. It was so erotic it pulled a belated whine out of him, quiet and worn out and so fucking happy. He kept his sticky hand between his legs palm up, fingers twitching, thighs shaking on either side. 

***

Steve slumped over that like that for just a second before he was easing himself forward, arms wrapping lovingly around Billy to gently try and lower him down to the carpet alongside him. Stretching them both out over the pristine white, chest to chest, wanting more cuddly stuff after all of the rough. Tucking their legs together like puzzle pieces, a perfect fit.

He looped one arm between the carpet and Billy’s neck, tangling his fingers back up into the long, frazzled curls there. The other he searched out Billy’s hand with, interlocking their fingers – drawing them to his mouth to press a kiss to Billy’s knuckles. His doe eyes closed and blissed out, murmuring “Love you, love you,” into that smooth, scarred skin. 

***

“Nicest birthday—I’ve ever had,” Billy said, pausing to sigh, easing his neck back into Steve’s hold. “Thanks sweetheart.”

He watched Steve kiss his hand and tucked his chin against Steve’s shoulder, smiling into the freckles there. There was something so fucking Steve about this, all of it. Fucking the shit out of him and wanting to hold him like a precious object immediately after, telling him he loved him. It might never get old, it would never ever get old. 

***

“Happy birthday, baby.” Steve smiled again into Billy’s knuckles, letting out a soft, warm breath through his nose. Those chocolate dark eyes slid open and watched Billy as their breathing started to settle, close enough he could practically bump their noses together – so he did just that. Ignoring the twinge in his own. He was close enough he could see the little, brighter blue starbursts in the middles around Billy’s pupils. So pretty.

“I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. Everything it could be. It can be like this every year,” He breathed happily, humming under his breath, eyes fluttering closed again as he squirmed closer to Billy, legs clinging onto him a little more. It was perfect like this, everything he wanted. That sweet, ideal moment after sex when everything felt like a bubble, like a dream, with only the two of them at the floaty center.

***

“Every year?” Billy said, pulling his head back but only by an inch, only to get a good look at Steve. 

It was stupid. It was probably really stupid, but he remembered. He could remember Steve saying every year, any time that terrible weekend he’d grieved his mother. The way Steve took care of him and the way he did now and all of the shit he’d gone through—for him? It was hard to believe and he didn’t know, wasn’t sure he could. He hoped, but he didn’t know. 

***

Steve cracked his eyes open again, looking a little drowsy – or maybe just blissed – probably both. It had been a long few days, and it had been really good sex, and it made him sleepy. 

“Mhmmm. Yeah – I mean, well, we could do it different if you wanted to do something else. Movies? Oh, or roller skating! With your new roller skates.” 

Steve let out a low yawn. But as his mouth snapped back closed, he blinked, bringing Billy into a little better focus – and the peculiar look he was giving him. His sleepy smile faltered a little, falling away - had he said something wrong? Did he have something on his face?

“What?” 

***

“I just—“

Don't understand. Billy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion or maybe something deeper than that, words said to him for over a decade burrowed in further than the good still. He wondered if or when that wouldn’t be the case. If maybe every little thing he did for just himself would tip the scales, or if it would just be like this. Always a question. 

“Every year with—me? Years?” he asked, a bit embarrassed by the eagerness in his voice, the self consciousness there. “You’re sure?”

***

Steve really wasn’t sure if he was reading Billy’s voice right – but really what instantly came to mind, was the last relationship he’d been in. He’d thought years then, too. He’d thought a lifetime. He’d thought that was it. But the rug had really been pulled out from under him at the end of that whole…shitshow. 

And he knew they were teenagers and he knew that things changed – he knew things would be changing a lot. Billy would be going off to college. He’d be going to California. And when the time came, the question was, could Steve go – would he? Leave the kids and everyone and the only world he’d ever known to possible danger and death without him there? For Billy? He needed to think he could do that. 

But really only if Billy wanted it. Wanted him. And the way he asked years? – well. Maybe that was too much pressure, way too fast, for Steve to have put on his shoulders.

Steve shifted a little uncomfortably on the carpet, petting at Billy’s hair unconsciously, and studying the bronzed catholic medallion that hung sideways along his collarbone. 

“Oh well I mean – “ Steve cleared his throat, eyebrows slowly inching up. “I mean it’s no pressure, I know – know we haven’t been together that long, I guess,.. But I just thought…uh. Sorry. Sometimes my mouth just sort of - takes over.” 

***

Billy shook his head instantly, reaching out to touch the soft hair of Steve’s eyebrows, keep them from going any higher up. Pressure didn’t even really cross his mind. He’d never entertained the idea of anyone wanting—this, let alone anything beyond it. 

“Don’t be sorry, don’t be,” he said firmly, his expression still unsure, a small lump in his throat he couldn’t quite get down. “I just—no one’s ever wanted me to stick around, or wanted to stick around. I guess I just thought...you want the nuclear family, don’t you? A pretty, normal wife. None of this shit, this bad shit.”

***

Steve’s eyes turned back up from the glint of metal, to the glint of Billy’s eyes instead – that unsure, cerulean blue. What he thought the ocean might look like. His eyebrows relaxed as Billy soothed over one of them, his words soothing even more.

“Well of course I want to stick around. I want you to stick around, too.” Steve’s expression shifted, grew a bit more neutral as he considered what Billy was saying, what he was asking him. Like it was this heavy, heavy question – one that had been weighing on Billy’s mind, but not as a question. More like a certainty. But it was still a question, in essence, and Steve felt like the answer was very simple, but also, complex. But Steve felt like he owed Billy both of them. He should know.

“The long answer is…I…thought I did. I thought that’s what I was supposed to do, supposed to have. I didn’t really know there were...different options. Last fall? I was getting all ready to work for my dad, get – get health insurance, benefits, whatever. Move in with Nancy eventually, after she finished school. I guess, get married – have kids. My dad kept talking to me about it, like, like it was some kind of pre-made plan. That I needed a ‘pension.’ Then Nancy kept talking about that with her parents – how that happened to her parents, and they’re miserable. Mostly her mom, but. Her dad got the cushy safe job and she married him and had the kids, but – that was just it. It was just…safe. And they hate it. They don’t even like each other. And Nancy – Nancy found someone that makes her happy, someone that’s not a safe pension plan.”

Steve frowned – he hadn’t meant for this all to come up - he hadn’t meant to bring up Nancy, but, he felt like that was in large a part of the answer – she had been the nuclear family, which had gone nuclear. 

“To me…to me, that’s what sounds like shit – bad shit. I don’t want to be a safe pension plan.I don’t – I don’t want to never leave Hawkins, and do only what I’m supposed to do like it’s…some sort of set path. Working for my dad until I die, with some ‘pretty, normal wife’ that hates me, just ‘cause I was told that’s what has to happen. The short answer is, I want to be with someone I love. I want to be able to make my own choices about that, about who I want to be with, and…nothing with you is bad shit. Nothing. I love you, and honestly, that’s what’s most important to me. Besides, you’re prettier than anybody I’ve ever seen, and probably more normal than like…anybody in Hawkins. This town is crazy. My ‘pretty, normal’ boyfriend.” 

***

Billy didn’t know what to say, Steve’s words falling on him as heavy as bricks. He stared up at Steve with wide eyes as he spoke, the uncertainty sloughing right off of him like shaking rain off of a coat. The idea that he played some part in something that big, Steve’s metamorphosis into someone who cared about themselves and what makes them happy instead of a life full of ingrained ideas...it was enormous. Unfathomably huge. 

When he blinked he flinched, tears hitting his cheeks, the sensation a surprise. His heart felt so full that it hurt, threatened to crawl right out of him, claws out the entire time. It was the best feeling he’d ever had. 

He didn’t know what to say so he spoke with his body instead, curling into Steve’s side. His arm slung across Steve’s chest, face pressed hard into his neck and making the freckled skin there wet. Steve’s Pretty, normal boyfriend. For years. Any time. 

***

Steve furled right around Billy where he curled against him, sort of cradling him against his chest and pressing kisses into his crown of gilded curls. Feeling his arm growing wet with the saltwater of tears. His other arm dipped over the small of Billy’s waist to rub over his back in short soothing sweeps, his chest rising steadily beneath the blonde’s touch. 

“So as long as you want me, I guess you’re stuck with me.” He smiled into Billy’s hair, still brushing his palm over Billy’s back. “For as many years as you want.”

***

Billy laughed wetly into Steve’s neck, sniffing hard and burying his face in further. He let out a shuddering sigh and relaxed against Steve, all of that smooth, warm skin his for as long as he wanted. After a long life of doing seemingly nothing but wanting for things he was being given something. Something he hadn’t thought he’d ever get. 

“This isn’t on the fantasy list but I guess I’ll have to pencil it in,” he said with another sniff, pulling back to look up at Steve despite how nice the lips on his hair had felt. “You’re giving me the—fucking vapors or something. Jesus, look at me.”

***

“Well – here, maybe this’ll clear them up. Or make them worse. I’m not really sure.” Steve grinned down at him, enjoying the way his body had gone lax against him, like he was letting Steve hold him up for once. And Steve was always happy to do that – as much as Billy might need. 

“You have one more birthday present to open.” 

He shifted a little, abandoning the path he’d been tracing over Billy’s spine to reach behind him. Tucked into the end of the sofa cushions, where he’d hidden the lube before – he slid out a little square package. It was about the size of a matchbox, and wrapped in the same blue foil paper as the stereo, with a single bow of twine. He lowered the tiny, bright thing to hold it between them where their bodies were still tucked together, offering it to Billy. 

***

Billy frowned, just shy of petulant when Steve stopped rubbing his back. It deepened when he was able to curl all the way up against Steve again, eyes locked on the box in Steve’s hand. He slid his hand across Steve’s chest before taking it, settling the box between them and sliding the ribbon off. 

“Another one? You really are full of sur—“

A lightning strike of memory hit him as the box opened, one he thought for a second he must’ve dreamed. But he remembered. He remembered looking through the display case at the jewelry store, drooling over the earrings, picturing himself being someone who could have them. It was a practiced game, one he’d shared with Max in lighter ways. Pretending to be part of a family on the boardwalk, putting on funny voices. He’d pictured ever getting to touch something as special as those earrings, being the kind of person who could even wear them. 

What had happened after that was something Bea said would take a lifetime to really ever get even close to over, something he’d have to work at every day to rid himself of. Even with the memory no longer recent, bruises faded, ribs and skull healed, phantom pains remained. But Steve, he’d remembered. He’d seen Billy, really seen him, and now he was holding all that proof in his hand. 

He couldn’t even see the earrings properly, vision blurred worse than seconds before that. Steve had joked about making it worse but he was right and Billy couldn’t stop crying. Big emotional hiccups of breath like a baby overstimulated, the box holding his earrings in a satin pillow shaking in his hand. 

***

Steve knew, really, in retrospect that perhaps the earrings…weren’t tied to the best memory. The best night. But he’d bought them before that happened, and either way, he’d known that Billy had really loved them. And the memory of that night didn’t matter – it couldn’t taint something like that, Steve hoped. Hoped he’d still like them. But he wasn’t entirely sure – when Billy started crying a lot harder, like more like sobbing, hiccuping sobbing – if it was okay or not. 

“I…I hope you still like them,” He swallowed, one large, slender hand resting over Billy’s side, thumb brushing against his smallest rib. “I know it took some time – because of what happened, and I wanted to ask you sooner, but – was wondering if you’d like to go to prom with me.” 

***

Billy nodded furiously, staring down at the earrings still even if he couldn’t see them well. He could remember them well enough, the gold chain and the swirl of it at the top, the little diamond there. The way they reminded him of a sunset in California, the best ones he’d seen, orange and burnt and beautiful. 

He kept his hand tight around the box as he leaned forward and up, kissing frantically over Steve’s face while he hiccuped for breath. The long slope of his nose, the beauty marks on his left cheek that he liked so much, the dip in the center of his top lip, his strong chin. He nodded again and the kisses got more forceful, happy smacks of his lips on skin. 

Prom with his boyfriend who loved him. Who got him beautiful earrings because he’d looked at them for a few seconds, who gathered people around to celebrate him being alive today, the weight of that fact not lost on him now. Not anymore. Now? Now, being alive was important, worth something. 

Just like he was to Steve, just like Steve was to him. 

***

Steve let out a faint, breathy laugh as Billy littered his face with kisses – soft, feather down soft things that landed only briefly before being placed in another spot on his face. He eagerly returned them after a moment of enjoying Billy’s lips on his skin – sure now that the tears were happy tears, not upset ones. Especially when Billy nodded – agreeing to go. 

Steve really grinned then, showing all of his teeth as his eyes crinkled with the force of his happiness -–he'd been, well, maybe a little nervous that he might get turned down, after the week they’d had. Thought Billy might be anxious – even if he had been flipping Tommy off in the parking lot. Jesus Steve really wanted to go with him, and his heart hammered with the excitement for the night, for the promise of it. He surged forward to lock their lips together, still having trouble with trying not to smile, but he couldn’t help it. He planted a few chaste kisses there, like stamps on love letters, tasting tears - before he immediately dipped his tongue into Billy’s mouth. The tip of it drawing a hot stripe against Billy’s own. Noses brushing.

He lifted both hands then to grasp at the sides of Billy’s head, sliding each set of fingertips up into his hair from the tips of his ears upwards. Brushing his thumbs along those high cheekbones, and burying his hands in endless curls as he kissed Billy silly, all passion and smiles and joy. 

***

Billy set the earrings up on the—table? Couch? He wasn’t looking. He tried to be careful about it but Steve was holding his head in his hands and it felt how he imagined his own in Steve’s felt. Like being steered around and held together and completely fine with it. 

This was different than before, every part of it all Steve Harrington. The way he was grinning into Billy’s mouth before delving his tongue inside, coaxing his mouth open. The way he held him so close, both of them stark naked. The way they were both as eager as the other, desire mounting because they loved each other. Because they were going to prom together, we’re going to spend years together. 

“Love you, I love you,” he panted, his tears painted across both of their faces like he was sharing it, this enormous feeling. “I love you so much, I love you I love you.”

***

Steve pressed as close as possible – from navel to nose, tightening the twine of their legs together, and really pressing into Billy’s personal space. Like they could somehow merge like that, all bare skin with nothing between them, nothing to separate them, chest to chest. Sharing breath, teeth clicking together.

“I love you – “ A kiss. “God I love you so much – “ Another Kiss. “I love you.” Steve murmured. 

Then he kissed over Billy’s cheeks, clearing away tears with the brush of his lips. 

“Can’t believe I –“ kiss, “get to go to prom – “ kiss, “with you,” kiss. 

He smiled into Billy’s cheek, nosing away some remaining tears, before gently rolling Billy onto his back, letting Steve hover just above him. One leg tucked over those thick, muscled thighs as he pillowed the back of his head with a strong forearm against the carpet. Steve pulled back just enough to gaze down at Billy with large, luster bright eyes, a smile still curling at one corner of his mouth. Lowering long, dark lashes, and admiring him. 

“I’m gonna be the luckiest guy there.” 

***

Billy felt his whole face light up under the scrutiny of Steve Harrington in full on fucking smooth mode, but he felt something else too. He hadn’t let himself feel it growing up, shut himself off to the idea. It made living easier and quieted his head enough for him to scrape by, to do more than scrape by. But right now, with Steve looking at him like he hung the moon and pressing right up against him there was no chance he couldn’t. 

Hopeful. 

“Yeah?” he asked, not because he didn’t know, but because he needed to know over and over and over. Would maybe never stop wanting to know. “Me?”

***

Steve smiled, wrinkling the colorful bridge of his nose a little like he was amused by what Billy was asking – all lit up with a blush as bright as the sun, and just as lovely. He leaned down just enough to brush his lower lip against Billy’s upper one, the softest touch. “Yeah, you.” 

He smiled again like he was being real cute and pulling his nose away just enough to glance around the living room, the hair curled out over his forehead bobbing with the movement. “I don’t see anybody else around here.” Then he lowered those cutesy, doe dark eyes back down to Billy – gazing at him like he was the only thing in the entire world. “Just you.” 

He traced a hand down over Billy’s stomach, fingertips travelling along the map and planes of his abs, the dip of his navel, until they were soothing around the indent of the Adonis’ belt there – all silky smooth, teasing the shaved skin there. 

***

Billy smiled up at Steve and wondered if this is what all the girls before him felt like, swooning at those puppy dog eyes and waiting for what came next. He’d been doing it for what felt like a long time now, letting the boy above him turn him boneless for the first time in his life. Certainly not the last. 

His muscles jumped under Steve’s hand but no thoughts of urgency came to mind. He reached slowly to the side and blindly felt for the jewelry box, too busy looking at Steve to look at what he was doing. He slipped his spike earring off and let it fall to the carpet, slipping the new one on and feeling it for a second. Smooth and shiny, like what Steve had turned him into. 

“Pretty?”

***

“Mmmhm. So pretty.” Steve told him, watching how the light caught off of the gold and diamond earring, just like how it caught off of Billy’s eyes. 

With his free hand, he reached up and briefly touched at the earring, letting it lay over the pads of his fingers – tickling at Billy’s earlobe – before letting it fall again. He left a soft kiss against Billy’s cheek, letting out a long sigh through his nose, all comfort and relaxation, and something a little bit more. 

“Looks good on you. Suits you.” His neck bent just enough that he could lead a trail of kisses down from there, down along Billy’s jaw, like bullet points, before he started to wander across Billy’s throat. The jut of his tendons, the bump of his Adam’s apple, and the gentle hollow below it. Leaving a necklace of kisses to go with the new earring, and curling his fingers against Billy’s skin. 

***

Billy let the words so pretty wash over him as soothing as a hot bath, his eyelids fluttering at the smallest touch of Steve’s hand on his ear. The feeling became a lot more prominent with the lips trailing over his throat, all those old hurts a million miles away, turning him soft and sweet and so many other things he hadn’t thought he was. 

“Uh huh,” he sighed, relaxing into the carpet and moving both hands up into Steve’s hair, one hand making a short detour. It pulled slow and gentle, almost feather light on Steve’s thigh, encouraging him all the way on top. 

No rush. 

***

Steve followed Billy’s encouragement, his urging touch, and eased himself on top of the blonde entirely. Only some of his weight rested on Billy, though – he left the rest of it on his left knee, still on the carpet. Wouldn’t leave all of his weight on Billy’s ribcage yet. 

Even after how many times he’d seen it, it was still a marvel and a kind of wonder to him when he saw Billy like this. It made him inexplicably happy, like he couldn’t contain all of it. When Billy was all soft edges, an open book, heart on his sleeve. Warm and tender and melting beneath Steve. 

Steve felt like it was a certain privilege to be able to see it as he did – and he didn’t take that lightly. It was difficult, in moments like that, to tie together and reconcile the spitting fury of Billy’s face above him that night in the Byers’. He was thankful to any kind of a god there may be out there, if there was such a thing, that things had worked out as they had. That Billy was with him, that he was able to embrace this softness that Steve could see, could touch, could taste, and that he could take care of Billy just the way he should be. 

Steve’s lips were replaced by the tip of his nose, which he slid over Billy’s skin in a straight line – from the hollow his throat, over the angle of his Adam’s apple, all the way up to his chin. He braced one hand at Billy’s cheek, and unabashedly, he was already nearly half hard against Billy’s pelvis – his cock lengthening and perking in absolute interest, spurred on by kisses and so much warm skin, and how Billy looked and felt so soft and inviting beneath him. The other hand swept down over a thick, peach fuzz thigh, then back up - a slow, sweet gesture, before he dipped it between the sandwich of their bellies. 

***

Billy sighed heavily, his head tipping back until all he could see was the ceiling, spurred by that aquiline nose working its way up his neck. He carded his fingers through Steve’s hair, all tender touch, a reward for making him this way. His legs spread open like an afterthought, the big hand moving across his thigh just the fucking thing he needed. 

He slipped one hand out of Steve’s hair and trailed it down his spine, stopping to feeling lean muscle and a thin waist, then moved between them to join Steve’s. He settled his palm on top of Steve’s and guided it past his cock, hard and almost over stimulated, to his hole. 

He remembered saying still all wet for you to Steve once, a fucking filthy thought he was having now too. Another sigh worked its way out as he gently curled his palm, guiding Steve’s first two fingers inside of him with thankfully no protest. The sound was quickly joined by a moan, soft and high and quiet, everything soft and blurred at the edges. 

***

Steve followed Billy’s non-verbal instruction, and his fingers flowed inside of Billy with ease, an almost practiced motion now. Little to no resistance thanks to before, and this was different in another way, too.. It wasn’t just the synthetic slick of the lube easing the way, it was the very organic slide of his own come – still coating the walls of muscle. 

The thought of it, the feel of it – his come inside of Billy – had Steve giving a shuddering breath, punctuating Billy’s low, sweet moan. Had his cock twitching, hard.

Steve worked his fingers in deeper, going higher, very lightly petting the pads of his fingers along the roof of Billy’s insides. Then pressing. A pointed and purposeful stroke. Huffing out a hot breath into the faintly mottled skin of Billy’s throat.

“There?” The word was only a whisper.

“Yes.”

Billy answered in one word, one long whine because it was all he was capable of. His hand moved to Steve’s back, a comforting motion even if he was the one who felt like he was being flayed wide open. He knocked his knees against Steve’s ribs the way he knew he liked, bracketing him and holding him close, though not desperate. 

Steve was right there. Any time. Years. 

It was filthy, Steve’s fingers pushing his come around inside of him, just enough to make him shudder. He knew exactly how to move and Billy got to have all of it. He got to have arousal running up all of his nerves like a lightning strike, his hands shaking over Steve’s hair, his muscular back. His. 

***

Steve could hear the squelch of come inside of Billy as he worked his fingers against the spot that made Billy whine, made his frame shake and quiver under Steve’s body, and his fingers tremble in Steve’s hair. He licked a hot spot of saliva against Billy’s trachea, before he reluctantly removed his fingers from inside him, sticky with spent come and lube. 

“Love you, baby,” he murmured, raising himself up enough now that he could press a gentle kiss to Billy’s lips. He looped one arm beneath Billy’s thigh, which was held up at his side, and reached down with the other to guide his aching cock to his hole instead. His dick was fully hard, already impatient to be inside of Billy again, beading at the tip. 

He’d meant it, before. What he’d said. About Billy being stuck with him, for years, or however long he might still want Steve. Because Steve wanted this forever – didn’t want to give it up, as long as he could have it. This sweet embrace, Billy’s tiny, encouraging sounds, and so much love spilling out between them that it blurred together like different colors of dye to make a new hue altogether. 

His cock slipped past Billy’s hole – easing carefully at first, despite having been in Billy only so many minutes before. He could feel the ooze of come, thick against fluttering muscles around his cockhead, and his eyes rolled back a little, overwhelmed, groaning as he slowly slid all the way home – careful inch by careful inch. 

***

Billy knew he could be pretty loud when he got worked up, memories of Steve putting his shirt in his mouth, his fingers there acting as proof. The tail end of sex was always the peak of it, his body frazzled and his brain long gone. Except it hadn’t been very long since the last tail end, just a handful of minutes really and now he was a fucking live wire. 

His eyes screwed shut at just how easy it was for Steve to bottom out again, how Steve sounded when he was inside of him. The whines were loud from the start, practically ringing in his ears from the stimulation, clamping down on Steve’s cock and only making it that much more intense. He felt drunk with it all over again but this time he was sluggish instead of clawing, all high gasps and soothing motions with his hand, one knee tucked up close to his chest by—Steve. 

“Steve,” he praised, head lolling to the side before tipping back up, a staccato of sound crawling up his throat. “M-ine.”

***

When Billy clamped down on him, Steve had to really fight the urge not to rut forward. But Billy was gasping, his chest rocking beneath Steve’s with the fight for air, soothing over Steve’s back with one palm like saying ‘keep going.’ 

“Yours,” Steve gasped in agreeance. “Billy. ‘n your mine, and – gonna go to prom. Together.” He screwed his eyes shut for a minute as he bottomed out, then slowly rocked out to thrust back in, shallow and easy. “Mine.” 

It felt like he was fucking honey, like golden and warm and exotic and perfect. Sweet and saccharine and thick on the tongue. He’d already missed it, and it’d only been minutes before that he’d been in the same place. He reached up a large hand, still a little sticky, to grasp where Billy’s hand was still swept into his hair. He tangled their fingers up together, half mixed up with the brunette strands, held against Steve’s head. He was breathing hard through his nose as he pressed Billy open, trying to keep his eyes open so he could watch the blitzed out look on Billy’s gorgeous face. His favorite look.

“F-feel amazing. You feel amazing. You’re – you’re perfect, baby. You’re perfect. You’re so good. Love -” He had to take a gasp of air, his hips working up to a steadier rhythm, but not going any faster than need be. Really drawing it out, savoring it, tightening his fingers where they overlapped with Billy’s . Making love. “Love you.”

***

Billy blossomed under the praise like a flower, his body arching up off of the bed while his nerves sang. Steve’s hand on his had him gasping for completely different reasons, the declarations of love and the endearments raining over him like beautiful confetti. He soothed over Steve’s back gratefully before moving up, curling over the top of Steve’s shoulder for some leverage as the pace picked up a bit. 

“Love you,” he echoed, a few soft ahs leaving him with each gentle thrust. 

It was better than rushing, better than anything in the world. Being loved enough to feel cherished, like each and every inch of him was being worshipped. Even the fading bruises on his throat, lovingly kissed and nosed at. Erasing them from his mind for one sweet moment and letting himself just be, basking in the peace afforded to him in their own little bubble. 

***

Steve merely rocked his hips, almost leisurely about his pace, but also angling for Billy’s prostate at the same time – the drag of his cock inside of Billy perfect and delicious and lighting up his spine, making him shiver. He buzzed with the sensation of it, of Billy so tight around him, grasping at his shoulder like Steve were some kind of anchor. Steve wanted to be his anchor, if that’s what he needed him to be. 

He tucked his head to the side of Billy’s neck, still holding Billy’s hand tight there, panting into his skin. His toes dug into the carpet as he kept his thrusts gentle, but continued to pick up a momentum. Whispering Billy’s name like a prayer there in the juncture of his neck, mindlessly kissing there. He poured himself into each adoring thrust, trying to communicate his love with each sweep of his hips. Like some kind of physical morse code. 

He twined their fingers all that much tighter together, while his other hand splayed against the carpet alongside Billy’s head to stabilize them both. Again, to keep his weight off of Billy.

And Billy, Billy was beautiful beneath him. His skin was beautiful, and the way his soft pink lips parted for air, those golden curls. The way his neck arched back in pleasure, and his spine lifted up off the carpet like a parentheses. But it was more than that too, something unsaid, something unseen to the naked eye. He was beautiful in the way he opened himself for Steve in every way, the way he kept them close together like they just fit that way naturally, like it was meant to be. The way he warmed like a morning flower in the first hints of the sun. Steve loved him. Loved him, loved him. So much. It took his breath away.

***

Billy’s hand tightened on Steve’s shoulder, though not nearly as hard as it normally would’ve been. His body was on fire, the over stimulation making him flinch, making him curve into it like it couldn’t decide between the two. It was an ache that got deeper with each thrust, a hoarse and borderline pained whine crawling up his throat when his prostate was grazed against. 

He didn’t even need to say there, right there because Steve knew his body, they both knew each other so well by now, like puzzle pieces fitting together. He cried out instead, legs inching up higher to grant Steve more room to move, folding himself almost in half. The picture it created made him dizzy, their hands joined so sweetly in Steve’s hair while they moved together, Steve’s come pushed further inside of him with each movement. 

Steve said his name like he was in front of some holy monument and Billy knew his whines sounded the same, reverent and miserable with arousal, clinging and rocking until there wasn’t anything separating them. Just slick skin sliding together, their sounds complimenting each other, Billy’s cock aching and wet between them. 

***

The hand that had been braced into the carpet left his weight to be favored on his knees, as it slipped between their stomachs like before – searching out Billy’s cock, a hot, rigid outline between them. Long, graceful fingers wrapped around it, this thumb swiping over the pre-come gathering at the head. He used it to slick down over Billy’s cock, adding yet more obscene sound to join the wet, tantalizingly loud drag of Steve’s cock. The dull thud of skin against skin. He stroked over Billy’s cock in time with his own rolling thrusts, pulling him off almost expertly – tugging pleasure over that velvet, damp skin. 

His veins felt all lit up, all molten magma, and shifting tectonic plates in his belly – he was shaking with it now. Quickly losing the ability to form true words, but letting out low moans and gasped whimpers, broken sounds, like some kind of holy mantra. Like they were in some kind of reply to each low cry and whine from Billy’s throat, this erotic, beloved conversation of simple noise. Something almost primal, ancient about it. Wordless. 

It snuck up on him, all sensory overload and sweet sounds, a vibration over his entire body. Steve’s throat tensed as the lava in his belly started to boil over - his hips suddenly losing their steady rhythm, to start stuttering. His fingers went rigid where they interlocked with Billy’s, pressing them tighter against the side of his head, and twitching against Billy’s cock. Breath stalling in his lungs.

***

Billy is choked by the force of his orgasm, every perfect little sensation smacking into him at once. His eyes rolled back in his head and he saw fireworks, blinding and bright and loud just like he was. He seized up and felt himself come between them, his cock shooting out meager amounts of come, sliding between their stomachs. He could feel Steve beginning to falter, spurred it on with soft sounds. 

“Sweetheart,” he cooed, trembling hand moving from his shoulder to his back, more of those soothing sweeps of fingers and palm. “Steve, Steve.”

***

The sounds of Billy coming forced Steve over the edge, the impossible sounds he was making – always very audible when it came to that. As Billy murmured Steve’s name in his ear, sweeping a palm over his back like permission, Steve shuddered as his orgasm hit him. He clenched his eyes shut, mouth gone lax as he went still with the intensity of it, hips pressed forward. Seeing white.

It was all bright and loud and he was choking a moan into Billy’s skin, biting against his collarbone as he rode through the waves of pleasure. Adding just a little more to what was already inside of Billy. As the climax of it began to ease, Steve slumped back down over Billy – chest heaving as he fought for breath, still a little eased onto one knee. Ever aware, even in fucking bliss. 

“Billy – Billy,” He sighed against that soft, salty skin, fingers loosening within Billy’s. Still gently grasping his softening cock with the other hand, shoulders trembling with aftershocks. “Thank you.” He pressed a soft kiss to where he’d bitten at Billy’s collarbone, barely a mark left. “Thank you, for saying yes. Happy Birthday, baby.”


	9. Chapter 9

Prom was soon. Like, in an hour fucking soon. Billy squeezed himself into some dress pants—which he may have purposefully gotten a size too small—and a white shirt, practically see through. He’d put his earrings on and made sure his hair was soft and curly and perfect, almost devoid of hairspray except where it was needed. It made him think of that night in Chicago, glitter in his hair and only a denim jacket on top, like he was really being himself. 

The problem was he couldn’t quite get the jacket on. He wasn’t sure why but for the last twenty minutes he’d just been sitting on his bed, gingerly holding it and looking at his reflection in the turned off television screen. Sort of like looking at a stranger, he’d tilted his head to one side and then the other, touching his earrings with a free hand. 

Was he the person who got to have all of this? What would happen when they got there? It couldn’t be worse than what already had, could it?

***

Max knocked on Billy’s door. 

“Hey buttcheese! Mom says she wants to get pictures before Steve gets here. Are you decent?!” Then she barged in anyways, without waiting for a reply. She was wielding the polaroid like she’d been planning on getting some beautiful impromptu candid shot of him messing with his hair or something, or maybe picking his nose, but he was just sitting there. That was boring for a picture.

She stood in the doorway for a second, clearly having expected something different. She frowned at him a little, her pale ginger brows lifting – she was already in her Star Wars PJ’s because they were having a movie marathon while Billy went to prom. It was a Friday night, and mom was making popcorn. 

“What’re you doing? Why’re you just sitting there?” 

***

Billy didn’t acknowledge Max at first, for once not because he felt like being a dick. He was busy looking down at his knee and the erratic bounce of it, wondered just how long it had been doing that. Probably since the second he sat down. He looked up at her and the camera in her hands, saw her pajamas and gave a small smile that quickly dropped to a scrunch of his mouth in the corner. 

“I don’t know,” he said, chewing on his cheek and glancing down at the jacket in his hands. “I don’t know if I can do it, Max.”

***

Max’s frown deepened then, really making her freckled face fall as she tipped her head at him – also taking in the way his knee was jiggling like when he got real nervous, and the jacket that was clasped in his fists, practically white knuckled.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “Like, you don’t know if you wanna go with Steve? What’d he do this time?” 

She set down the heavy Polaroid camera on the end of the dresser with a light thunk, then wandered over to him. Plopped down next to him on the foot of the bed, and knocked her knee against his – the one that was bouncing with nerves.

***

“No, he didn’t do anything,” Billy said with a shake of his head, though it was warming to hear Max like that. Not pinning things on him immediately anymore, almost protecting him in her little way. “I just keep thinking about—I don’t know. They keyed my car and fucked up my locker, Max. Put pictures of me all over the halls.”

He hadn’t told Max about that, wasn’t sure if she knew. The school had informed Susan at some point even if he’d tried to keep it under wraps and he’d been trying not to think of it but so much had happened. All of this crazy shit hitting them at once, lessened and stifled by how much they loved each other. But it wasn’t stopping the anxiety from creeping up, his knee shaking so hard it was making Max’s move too. 

***

Max’s mild concern immediately morphed to that of bloodshed. “They what? You didn’t tell me that. Why didn’t you tell me that? Those shitheads! Why didn’t you kick their asses? I’ll help you. Or we could egg their houses, like that one time in Cali, ‘member? Who is ‘they’?” Max asked like she was making a hit list, a look of pure intent in those intense blue eyes – much like her step-brother’s. Almost like they could be real blood. She rest a small hand on his leg, trying to still it. “You’re not seriously gonna let them stop you from going to your senior prom, are you? You’re Billy Freakin’ Hargrove. You don’t – “

“Maxine! Did you get your brother? Steve will be here soon!” Susan called from deeper in the trailer, closer to the kitchen. “I want to get some singles before we get some of them together!” 

***

Billy’s mouth turned into a tight line, his leg relaxed for a handful of seconds under Max’s hand before it moved again, almost double time. He pressed his hands together in his lap in an attempt to save the jacket from any wrinkles, looking down at it and hoping he hadn’t messed it up. Though at this rate he wouldn’t end up wearing it anyway. 

“Max, listen, I don’t know how to—it’s hard to explain,” he said, not meeting her eyes, not sure why when he could picture Max’s face when he’d had his worst night terror. This wasn’t that bad, even if his heart rate was telling him otherwise. “People hating you or, I mean, some people want people like me dead. I know it won’t happen, I’m just—I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know.”

***

Max had, unfortunately, become used to a much more timid side of her brother since that night at the movie theater two towns over. One that she certainly wasn’t used to – and it was rearing it’s ugly head a lot tonight. Leaving his usual cool exterior and spotless confidence nowhere to be found.

“I….I guess….I get it. Well – why don’t you put your jacket on and take the photos and see Steve and then you can see how you feel? ‘cause Mom’s gonna have a fit if you don’t take pictures. Maybe you’ll change your mind?”

***

Billy nodded, trying to get something positive about the word mom being addressed for him too. He took in a deep breath and stood, slipping the jacket through both arms. He left the front of it open, never a fan of buttons, though that was clear to anyone who had ever set eyes on him. 

“Alright, to the firing squad,” he said, reaching out to pat Max’s arm, trusting she’d follow if only to get an embarrassing Polaroid. 

He craned his neck to take one last look in the bathroom before moving out to the living room and into a surprise armful of Susan. She was cooing and fussing over him, fixing the curl at the front of his face and stepping back. He heard beautiful earrings and wondered if there had been times when Neil was around that she might’ve wanted to say just that. 

“Alright honey, big smiles,” Susan said, snapping her camera and waving Max in to take pictures too. “Okay, or brooding. Come on, give us just one!”

***

Steve’d spent way too long getting ready. Too long in the shower, too long getting dressed, too long in front of the mirror. But he really wanted to look perfect. He was wearing the new tux he’d bought, because renting things gave him the ‘heebie jeebies’ – other people wearing the same thing already? – and patting at his absolute pompadour of hair. It was actually like, almost rock solid he’d added enough Farah Fawcette spray, and it was looking way more reminiscent of Elvis than anything. Save for a few rogue bangs that wouldn’t stay put, fanning over his forehead.

The tux was made up of a baby blue jacket that was perfectly tailored to his longer limbs, and a tapered waist. It had a pressed white button up underneath, with a navy blue, satin cumberbund and perfectly tied bow-tie, with long black slacks. His dress shoes were polished enough that they could blind a man. He was wearing his nicest black leather watch on his right wrist, and had a black linen handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket with a pale white, fresh rose boutonniere pinned above. There was a matching boutonniere in a small plastic box in the passenger side of the Beamer, waiting for someone else, in a bed of blue ribbons. 

When he pulled up the gravel drive of the trailer in the middle of the Hawkins woods, Steve climbed out, his shining shoes crunching on the pebbles before he leaned in to grab out the plastic box. Inexplicably maybe a little nervous, tugging down the cuffs of his jacket, silver cufflinks catching moonlight. He couldn’t believe it was already dark. In a cloud of Calvin cologne, a woodsy floral musk, he headed up the steps towards the porch light to knock on the door. Pulling down his cuffs again and glancing out over the water of Lover’s Lake while he waited, catching the moonlight. 

***

Susan swung the door open, her hand slapping over her mouth as she gasped before letting out a sound of absolute delight. She smiled and ushered Steve in, attempting to twirl him to get a good look. 

“You look so handsome,” she cried, straightening one of Steve’s lapels that had moved in her bear hug. “Billy, look at your boyfriend. He just looks so amazing, you both look amazing.”

Billy couldn’t have agreed more, his head turning and the rest of him frozen still. He looked beautiful, handsome, about a million different things he’d never be able to adequately describe. He was as shiny as a fucking new button and he was perfect, so fucking perfect. 

“Oh, I’m looking,” he said, eyebrows raised a bit as he stared, though that frisson of panic was still there. His hand was still jittery at his side but he tried to hide it, tried to stop biting at his cheek and just enjoy looking at Steve. Something was wrong with him and he was trying, trying to keep it in check. 

***

Steve laughed, tipping his chin down to get a better look at Susan as she finally released him. “Thanks Mrs. Hargrove.” Then he lifted those dark, steady brown eyes to search out Billy – lighting up when he saw him like he was the best thing in the world. His grin broadened then, taking in Billy’s whole outfit, the soft fluff of his hair, the perfection of him – he looked almost like he had that night in Chicago, just not as glittery. He held out the little plastic box a little, gesturing towards it with his other hand while he took a few steps towards Billy, the door shut behind him. His heart was hammering with excitement, halfway up his throat and choking him with adoration and overwhelming love. 

“Wow Steve did you actually take a shower?” Max grinned up at him. “Color me impressed.” 

But Steve only had eyes for Billy, giving Max a small, distracted wave like he totally hadn’t heard what she’d even said. 

“Hey, you look great yourself. You look like – like you’re going to prom on Miami Vice, you look amazing. I like your earrings.” He grinned even broader, winking. 

His gaze swept over Billy, eating him up - holding out the small, clear plastic box. “This is for you.”

The closer he got, the more he realized something seemed a bit off – like even if Billy was all sparkly and gorgeous on the outside, it was maybe more of a shell. Beneath it, he looked sort of – strained? Nervous? Upset? Steve’s smile faltered a little. 

“Are you okay?”

***

Billy reached out and grabbed the box, his hands shaking as he held it. It was like Susan had some maternal sixth sense or some shit, her hand on each of their backs with a soft suggestion to maybe put the boutonnière on in the bedroom, take a second. He moved without thinking, like he was being pulled by a string. 

He sat on the edge of his bed gingerly, hands still shaking while he held the fragile plastic, his jaw wired shut for a minute. He kind of felt like he couldn’t breathe and that made him think about not breathing at all, internally screaming at himself to ‘stop, stop freaking out, what’s wrong with you, this is a happy time.’ 

***

Steve’d tagged along after Billy, the nerves from before returning tenfold, but this time for different reasons. When he stood there, with Billy at the foot of the bed, he curled his fingers up a few times at his sides, before he reflexively perched his hands on his hips. A nervous gesture, before he thought better of it, and shoved his hands in his slacks pockets instead. Billy was just staring at the box and not actually opening it, and he didn’t look – good. Well of course he looked good, but like, he looked off. Like he felt sick or something, or he was upset. Upset with Steve?

“I can – pin it on for you? If you want?” Steve said after a beat of silence, shifting a little on his shiny shoes. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t sit down, too, but, he just stood there like an idiot. Watching Billy’s hands shake.

He had this suddenly irrational, vivid thought that Billy was going to break up with him or something. Maybe he’d thought about it and years did seem like too much pressure, and graduation was next week, he had California, and so why would he want to go to prom with Steve – bullshit - 

Steve blinked a few times, hard, his brow furrowing a little at the overwhelming silence, and at himself jumping to wild fucking conclusions. He needed to chill. Use his words.

“Did…something happen? What’s wrong?” 

***

“I-okay, okay you can,” Billy said, reaching out to hand the box over to Steve, watching the plastic shift loudly because he’d almost gripped it too hard. “Okay.”

He shook his head at first and his mouth didn’t feel like it was working, a muscle in his jaw ticking with the force of having it clamped down. He could see Steve starting to freak out and he was doing it because Billy was freaking out. Steve was going to flip his shit because Billy couldn’t just be normal for one second, let one nice thing happen without a hiccup and—

“I’m scared. I’m really, really scared. I-I don’t know. I don’t know if I can—I’m scared.”

***

Steve tried to stop feeding off of the waves of tension that were rolling off of Billy, but it was pretty difficult. Auntie Bea had always told him he was an ‘empath’ and he just soaked up the feelings around him. Steve rolled his shoulders a little, trying to loosen them, and then sat down on the bed alongside Billy. He’d taken the box from Billy, which was a little crinkled now, but it was just a dumb box. 

He popped the top and removed the rose from the bed of ribbons, glancing up nervously at Billy as he leaned forward to start pinning it to the breast of his jacket. He paused in his work, peering at him in surprise. Scared? It was because he was scared? It…it had been a rough few weeks. Steve could admit that. Readily. 

But at the same time, he’d kind of thought they were hopefully doing okay. They’d bounced back from some of it already – the closet, that night, the day of the photograph, all of that. Sort of Billy’s camaro... He let out a long sigh. He’d thought it was worse - that it was, well, all the stuff that had been running through his mind. 

But he knew how much Billy’s social standing affected him. How important it was.  
He clicked the pin into place, straightening the ivory rose.

“Scared?” Steve asked after a second. “Babe, scared of what? I don’t exactly think they’re going to try to…pull some Carrie shit or something.” 

***

Billy got tunnel vision then, everything zeroing in on a picture popping into his head. That coupled with the sigh that left Steve’s mouth had him fucking reeling, like maybe he’d exhausted him. 

Maybe they’d announce him as prom king even though it wasn’t likely now, not since being catapulted out of the closet. He’d stand up on stage and take the crown, get a glance at Steve and then—blood. Everywhere. Ruining his suit jacket, all his white clothes running red like the front of Steve’s nice date shirt that night at the movies. 

He tried to shrug because he didn’t know what he was afraid of, it was hard to pin when right at that moment he felt like he was afraid of everything. He felt his breathing start to pick up, the guilt of making Steve watch him flip the fuck out like a nutcase falling over him, crushing him. 

***

“Heyyyy hey woah woah, okay, okay I’m sorry – that wasn’t the best example probably – but I mean – I mean nothing’s gonna happen.” 

Steve leaned forward, wrapping Billy up in a hug, pressing his cheek into his Shirley Temple curls. Feeling the way he shook beneath his solid arms, the way he was close to hyperventilating now. He soothed a hand over his broad back, much like how Billy had done the other night for Steve on his living room floor. Holding him close in their perfect suit jackets and styled coifs. 

“I – I know they’ve been total assholes, but, I feel like it’s already been dying down, huh? People will get over it. Nothing that bad will happen. No Carrie. I’ve known them since I was a kid, Billy – no one there is that bad. They fucking suck, but they’re not evil. It’s just prom.” 

God he hoped not, or he’d really regret saying it. But he didn’t think so. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d really put his foot in it. 

***

Billy tried to set his chin on Steve’s shoulder but ended up bowing his head, gasping with eyes burning and suddenly filled with tears. He was seriously losing his shit, Steve’s hand on his back an important comfort, though he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stop. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think I can,” he said in a rush, pressing his palm over one eye, curving into Steve’s embrace like he always did. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I’m all—fucked up. I know it’s bad, it’s a bad time. I’m so sorry.”

***

Steve went a little still, holding Billy close in his arms, widening his eyes as he gazed sightlessly over his shoulder. He kept trying to defend it – to defend the idea that it would be fine. Of course it would be fine. Nothing bad would happen. And how fucking great was that? How much of a goddamn hypocrite did that make him? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. It was like de-ja-vu, the shoe on the other foot. 

He’d just…jesus, he really wanted to go to prom with Billy. He’d wanted to since they started hooking up, then dating. He’d thought about it a lot – really, he’d been looking forward to his senior prom for his entire high school career, he was into it enough to be on the committee for crying out loud…

Shit, committee. Steve was supposed to have been there a little early, that’s why he’d been swinging by to pick up Billy, so they’d be sure to be on time. 

But just because Steve really wanted to go, and he was sure it would be fine, he refused to ignore what Billy was telling him. What Billy was feeling. Steve had been on the other end of that stick when they’d gone to that fucking, fucked up party and gotten stuck in the closet for an hour. Billy’d said it would be fine. Who knew. Maybe some Carrie shit would happen. And it just made Steve sad.

Steve wilted a little against Billy at that sad, sad thought. He kept rubbing circles into Billy’s back, but his jaw tightened and his eyes dropped. Chin perched on Billy’s shoulder.

Billy was telling him he didn’t want to go. And Steve would listen. Wouldn’t fight him on it, or make him, or point out why it would be fine. He tried not to sag.

“No. No, it’s okay.” He said quietly into Billy’s hair, patting his back now. “You don’t have to go. I’m not going to try and make you go – if you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” He shook his head a little, the helmet of his hair tapping a bit against Billy’s forehead. “You’re not fucked up. Last time I didn’t want to go – and, well. I’m not gonna be a hypocrite about it.” He pressed a kiss to Billy’s temple. “Don’t cry, it’s okay. I just want you to be happy. And if this won’t make you happy, you don’t have to.” Even if Steve felt like he’d swallowed an atom bomb of disappointment, and it had gone off in his stomach. Ready to start choking up the debris and shrapnel of old prom daydreams.

***

“I’m sorry,” Billy said, closing his eyes at the kiss to his face, his expression crumbling into a million pieces. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He pulled back to look at Steve, seeing the veiled disappointment there, his face falling further. He sniffed and wiped at his cheeks, stuck to the bed like he was made of cement. Prom night, the one time he’d get to experience it and he was too constricted by his own panic to even get up. It was bullshit, fucking bullshit. 

“I know you h-ave to go, it’s okay.”

***

“I’d stay with you.” Steve said immediately, guilt washing over his face at leaving Billy here, all dressed up with nowhere to go. “I mean we could even do something else instead, it’s just…I have to. Because of committee. I can’t blow it off, I’m sorry, I would – “ 

He swallowed, glancing at the door. He was already running a little behind, but Billy was more important to him. He didn’t want to leave Billy like this, in tears, while Steve ran off to some dance to have fun. He didn’t really think it would be without Billy, though. Just empty.

“But I mean, you, you’re more important than committee, than some dance– if you want me to stay, I’ll stay.” 

***

Billy shook his head and frowned, flapping his hand and looking elsewhere. He was embarrassed but it didn’t mean that he could exactly stop, sniffling like a little baby and stubbornly pushing tears across and off of his face. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s alright,” he said shakily, watching his hands tremble in his lap. “I’ll m-ake it up to y-ou, okay? I’ll—make it up.”

He winced at himself; there was no making this up. It wasn’t that surprising that he’d blundered this shit to hell but he wasn’t expecting his brain to be the culprit, not exactly. Maybe he’d be able to make it up some other way, he could work at getting Steve to forget about it after. Something. Anything. 

“It’s okay, I’ll—after?”

***

Steve’s shoulders sagged, and his hair felt more deflated than before somehow, but he nodded. Tried to force a smile across his face and look totally okay. Just pretend.

“Yeah. Yeah, after.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Billy’s cheek, brushing away a few of those tears with the side of his thumb. “Just uh. Prom ends at midnight. I guess….call me?” Steve blinked and stood, feeling distracted and disconnected, smoothing his hands over his jacket, feeling stupid and out of place now. He gave a little wave, then started towards the door, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Love you,” he nodded over his shoulder at Billy on the bed, trying not to look like a total kicked puppy or something. 

He suddenly really did want to leave though. Really bad. And it made him think of Tommy, somehow. Yelling ‘Run away, Stevie!’ Like he always did. Ran away then, ran away when Nancy got drunk and he was supposed to be her ride. Things got tough, and the tough got going. Steve ducked out of Billy’s room before he really got a reply, and made a beeline for the front door. 

He didn’t really wait, because he wanted to make it to the car before the tears started falling. Apparently crying was a thing again, and he didn’t really appreciate it. It wasn’t even that he didn’t understand why Billy didn’t want to go. Of course he did. He got it. It was the same reason Steve hadn’t wanted to go to that dumb party. But he still felt hurt, even if Billy wasn’t at fault.

He briefly caught a glimpse of Max on the couch, but he didn’t say anything before he ducked out the door. Closing it behind him with a very quiet click to not alert Susan, and took the stairs down two at a time until he was safe in the Beamer. One hand wrapped around the vinyl steering wheel, the other palming away the tears that slipped over his cheeks. Sniffing with impatience at himself. The dash read 7:55. He was gonna be late - the committee would murder him. He guessed there would be blood, after all. 

***

“Lov—“

Steve was gone, moving like a bat out of hell with the sound of the BMW somewhere off in the distance. Billy was glad for the first time that he didn’t have a vanity in his room at the trailer, not sure he’d like what he saw. Not sure he liked what he felt, not even close. He looked around the room like it might answer things for him but all he saw was his stereo, brand new and bought by Steve and Hop. 

He sunk down off of the bed with the mattress up against his spine, one hand over his eyes while he cried. This was some textbook high school girl melodrama bullshit, or maybe it just looked like it. Maybe he was afraid of things bigger than his outfit or if he’d dance well. Maybe he was thinking of everything that had lead to him getting anxious during changes or things he didn’t have absolute control over. It was too much. 

***

When Steve pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins High, he stared at the brick building for a while. The last time he’d sort of driven by a dance, seeing the lights shining through the windows, felt the pulse of the bass on the air, had been at the kid’s snowball. He heaved a weary sigh and climbed out of the BMW, leaving it unlocked like usual as he headed in. 

He definitely got shit for being late, because he had the list for the royalty, and it’s not like they needed it immediately, so he didn’t know what they were so upset about. He griped his way through it, feeling pushy and pushed, and definitely not in the mood. After that, he hovered on the outer edges of the gym, all festive with crepe paper hanging from the ceilings that he’d helped hang, and a net of balloons above it that would drop when the court was announced. Half of the air from his lungs was in those balloons. Cut outs of stars hung on strings, and confetti drifted aimlessly over the dance floor in motion with the touch of people’s feet. Total Footloose ripoff, which Steve had pointed out, and nobody cared.

There was a live singer, a girl on a set up-stage, singing covers of popular songs along with a male singer for the guy covers. They were actually pretty good. Steve glanced up at the ceiling. No bucket of pig’s blood lurking in the eaves. 

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and drifting aimlessly on the outside of the ring of the dance floor, eyeing the bleachers and considering sitting. He thought maybe he could find Nancy and Jonathan on the dance floor, but Jesus, he didn’t really want to do that either. Nancy was the person he’d originally been supposed to attend prom with, and despite being entirely over it and being head over heels for someone else, he felt like that would just be adding insult to injury. 

He wasn’t so lucky though – he did find them, but they were on the dance floor. And well, he wouldn’t have said Jonathan was a particularly good dancer, but it was like they were practically doing it on the dance floor. Good for them? Steve rolled his eyes, and shuffled closer to the bleachers. He knew he was feeling sorry for himself. He couldn’t help it. 

A few people came up to talk to him, and he snapped at them until they went away. He even ended up helping out more with duties than he’d intended – he even helped at the punch bowl for a while, trying not to glower and scare people away. 

The royal court was gonna be announced soon. Steve did find himself on the bleachers then, resting his chin on top of his folded hands and studying the stage. Once upon a time, he was going to be prom King. King Steve, prom king. It’d been expected of him, really. By a lot of people, including himself. It was a little surreal, really, to be here – not caring about it like he once would have. But it also was a dull sort of ache, for something he thought he’d wanted for so long, but just didn’t give a shit anymore. 

He was stag at prom and he knew he should probably just be pushing himself to have fun anyway and go and dance, but really, Billy hadn’t been entirely off the mark. Even without Billy with him, Steve still got a lot of funny looks. People steered clear. He rubbed his hands over his upper arms, all fancy in his tux, and frowned up at the star cutouts. He wouldn’t have minded it with Billy with him. When they were together, even when people were staring, or acting like little assholes about it, it was easier.

Steve didn’t care what people thought about him - there were more important things in life, he’d learned – but it was kind of a lot to be at the dance that he’d been looking forward to since, well, childhood he guessed – being treated like a leper, alone. 

Not what he’d ever imagined for himself.

If he’d been with Billy, he knew, they would have been dancing and not giving a shit about anyone or what anybody thought about them. Well. Maybe not – not with Billy being afraid. Steve sunk into melancholy then, sitting on the bleachers in his shiny shoes, idly humming to the music and resting his cheek in his palm. Eyes still puffy. Wishing it was midnight. 

Max pushed the door open to Billy’s room for the second time that night – “Hey you guys, mom says you’re running late, and she still wanted pictures – woah hey, where’s Steve? What happened?” she asked, staring at Billy on the floor, all tears, and no Steve.

***

Billy wanted to tell Max to just go away, that it was way too humiliating for his little sister to see this shit. Though she’d seen a whole lot and it wasn’t like she couldn’t handle it. Besides, it didn’t look like he was gonna stop any time soon. 

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he said mournfully, frowning at his hands in anger. They’d stopped shaking, of course they had, of course. “I pussied out because I’m too fucked up and I’m too scared about what those assholes might do and I told Steve he could go. Except he looked like I yanked his heart out and stepped on it and I didn’t get to say I love you like we always do when one of us leaves. And now—now I’m talking to my little sister while I fucking cry on the floor because I’m—my head, Max, it’s fucked.”

***

Max strolled over to plop down on the floor in front of him, sitting cross-legged with her hands on her knees. 

“Man. That’s rough. We seriously had to put up with Steve not shutting up about asking you to prom, and going to prom, and prom in general for like, the last two d&d nights. He thought it would help cheer you up. He was like, super excited. You know those things run for like, 10 plus hours, right? 10 plus hours of Steve talking, and not really playing the game.”

She rolled her yes and shook her head, sending her red curtain of hair swaying.

“ He and Dustin even went to the suit store like a pair of girls. So, was he totally pissed or what? And well obviously you need a serious pep talk, so, you’re in luck you do have me. I mean what are you even so afraid of? Some douchey high schoolers that think they’re hot shit? This is Hawkins. It’s not like they’re some gang downtown back home. It’s not even like it’s your crazy dad. Obviously the best they can do is put up some pictures - you could cream those losers. Who cares what they think? You didn’t seem to before. You said you didn’t even like it here. Why do you care about some assholes now? After you graduate you never even have to see them again.” 

***

“He wasn’t mad, he was nice but he was—bummed out,” Billy said, grimacing at Max’s words. She was right, he knew she was. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like Neil knocked something loose when he—that night at the mall. It’s like, sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself now that he’s not breathing down my neck. I’m not pissed off anymore and it’s like...that’s all I had.”

He didn’t tell her the more grisly shit, like how sometimes he’d get irrationally scared at night. Peek out the windows and make sure there weren’t any rednecks ready to blow his head off, make sure Neil wasn’t there. He didn’t think she’d understand. 

“I get all this nice shit in my life suddenly and I just—don’t know what to do with it. Like it was sent to the wrong address. Like going to prom with Steve.”

***

“So, what like – you just don’t feel like you deserve good things? It’s okay to have good things, and have good thing happen to you. You were just stuck with your dad, who was definitely a bad thing, and he seemed to like, keep the good things away. Good things were probably coming to the right address, and he hid them just like he hid your mail.” 

Max shrugged, but it was just the truth. Cold hard facts. And he needed to hear them. But she was thinking a lot about what he said about Neil knocking something loose. The way Billy’s skull smacked the floor. The way blood had pooled behind it on the tiles. 

“I…back in Cali, you didn’t used to be as angry. From before we came here. And I know…I know a lot of that is my fault. That you were angrier after I...well.. But most people live their lives without being that mad all the time. It’s not something that you had, it was just blocking the good stuff, too. Don’t you think? So now that you’re not so angry anymore, all the good stuff has the room to come in. And seriously fuck those people - there are much scarier things in the world to be afraid of. And one person I know that can fight off that sort of stuff is Steve.” 

***

Billy met Max’s eyes head on as she spoke, something nice and sweet and warm falling over him. It took the tingling out of his hands and made his lungs slow down, the tears stopping after a few quick blinks. The idea of Neil hiding a life like this from him hadn’t really occurred to him before, not the way Max was putting it. Like he’d been some barricade from people ever getting to care about his son or help him. Smooth talking police officers and threatening him. Maybe it didn’t stop there. 

Steve. He could be a good thing, he was the best thing that ever happened to Billy. He’d been so good he’d found his way in even while Neil was trying to beat him into submission, but it hadn’t taken. Not with Steve. There were so many good things kept at arm’s length for so long and now they were here and he could just—have them. 

He eased forward and wrapped Max’s small frame in a hug, one that was gentle but firm, pressing all of the gratefulness he had for her into it. He had to wipe his face one last time but otherwise kept holding on, a hug they’d never really gotten to have. 

“I’m gonna go to fucking prom.”

***

Max relaxed into the hug – she didn’t know that they’d ever actually really hugged before, besides maybe some playful things resembling hugs when they’d been back at the beach, or blading, or hanging out back then. But that was a long time ago now. 

“Damn right you are.” Max grinned against his shoulder, slapping him on the back. “Oh, and Billy - just because your dad isn’t causing bad things anymore...don’t just let them keep happening to you because they seem normal. Or it’s weird without them. That’s my last bit of very wise advice. Now go! Don’t leave Steve there alone. He’ll hate that. What time did he even leave? How long has it been?” 

***

Billy squeezed Max one last time before standing up and straightening his jacket. He glanced at his watch—9:30, Steve had been there at least an hour without him. His expression turned to one of alarm, had him bolting into the bathroom to take a look at himself. The hair was still good and the whole crying baby look would be gone by the time he got there, thank fuck. 

“How do I look—oh fuck it, I’m going,” he said quickly, grabbing his keys out of the bowl and smacking a kiss on Susan’s cheek, ignoring her shock for now. The time schedule just wouldn’t allow it and besides, she made Max so she deserved it. “Okay, love you bye!”

He didn’t realize what he’d said until he was already pushing 70 on the road but it didn’t make his stomach turn like the thought had once done to him. It sounded more like what he should’ve said a long time ago. That maybe that had been kept away from him too, only now, now he could have it. 

***

Steve’d been at the dance for an hour and a half, and he was close to leaving. The Royal court had been announced, and the balloons had fallen, and really, that was the last part that he needed to be there for to make sure it went off without a hitch, and it did.

Now, the green and silver balloons were tumbling around aimlessly around the edges of the gym where they’d been kicked aside if they hadn’t been stepped on and popped. The dude singer was crooning I Wanna Know what Love Is by Foreigner and everybody was super into it, even though Steve thought it was the cheesiest and he still loved it. But all he was thinking about having sex with Billy to this song for the first time with Billy inside of him. 

It just sort of made him want to cry. Like he had a golf ball in his throat he couldn’t swallow down, and his nose stung.

He was fucking leaving. 

He rubbed at an eye, still sitting on the bleachers and looking morose, before he started to unfold himself. He’d done his committee duties and maybe if he got home early Billy might still call him, but he kind of just wanted to go to bed. He felt really low, right in the center of his chest, like he’d forgotten his heart somewhere. And even everybody else’s happiness as they danced around and ran after each other, girls squealing and laughing and having an all around good time couldn’t seem to phase it. 

He started for the exit.

***

Billy ran so quick that he almost missed the doors, squeaking on the floor before correcting himself. He immediately wanted to tell Steve he’d done a total Breakfast Club move but he’d have to see him first. Maybe he was doing some committee stuff, hopefully not all by himself and—

But he was. He was by himself and he was walking toward Billy but hadn’t seen him yet, kicking balloons out of his way like they’d offended him. He looked sad, all big puppy dog eyes and perfect hair and perfect everything. It made Billy move quicker, shoving people out of his way, catching Tina’s squeal when he knocked her aside with his elbow and ignoring it. 

“Sweetheart,” he said, a little out of breath but loud enough to hear over the music. “There still time for a dance?”

***

Steve’s hands were buried in his pockets when…Billy? Came rushing up to him in a cloud of dust, practically, like in a cartoon. Asking him to…dance? Steve blinked at him almost sluggishly, a little line of consternation forming between his brows like he was legitimately trying to figure out if maybe he’d totally lost it and was hallucinating. He actually glanced around himself like maybe Billy was talking to somebody else before he slowly zeroed back in on the soft haired blonde. 

“…What’re you doing here?” Steve asked after a beat of silence, still frowning in confusion. Lingering tears still in his eyes from before, unshed - leaving a slight wobble in his voice. 

His heart was still in that low place, and he’d just spent the last hour and a half either sitting on the bleachers or being bitched at by fucking Marie O, the committee head. The night hadn’t been what he’d expected nor wanted, and Steve was used to being left alone a lot, but he hadn’t expected it tonight. It had left him blindsided. 

“I was...I was leaving.”

***

Billy stepped closer, let the gym just fade to black so he could set a hand on Steve’s cheek. The other wrapped around his shoulders, sort of pushing them into a one sided dance. It didn’t faze him, not when he had some things to say. 

“Max said something to me tonight after you went,” he said, fingers splaying across Steve’s cheek, his thumb moving slow and comforting over the bone there. “She said I’ve had a lot of good things kept away from me for a long time. That I shouldn’t—always expect the bad just because it’s what was normal. You’re a good thing, you’re the good thing.”

He pressed in closer until their chests were touching, all the noises around him drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. Like the ocean, vast and loud and impossible to ignore. He’d get to show it to Steve someday. Any time. Every year. 

“I’m sorry that I got scared. I got scared and I can’t promise other things won’t scare me sometimes, Bea said it’s not a linear process,” he said, trying to remember Steve’s aunt’s words, take them in like he’d taken his sister’s. “But I love you and I don’t want your memory of this night to be lonely. I want to be here with you. Plus, fuck everybody.”

***

Steve did not like being pushed into Billy’s one sided dance when he hadn’t said yes. 

He felt prickly all over suddenly, like a hedgehog that was curling forward. And he was trying to listen to Billy, and he wanted to be that good thing for Billy, and he didn’t want to be the bad thing that Billy had expected at the dance. Because there was no other bad thing here, nothing had happened, nobody’d even really spoken to him aside from Marie fucking O and her bossy boss complex. 

And Steve had been all the good that he could be for Billy for the past handful of months– he’d literally been thinking about it sitting on the bleachers, and honestly, he’d kind of started to work himself up. More than a little bit. He was sparking with hurt and was way down low, lungs so tight he couldn’t quite draw a full breath. He hadn’t even talked to Nancy and Jonathan because they were over there fucking their way across the dance floor in between glasses of punch and they hadn’t noticed him. And he didn’t want to bother them, either, become some third wheel to their prom night. 

But anyway, Steve had been the good that he could be for Billy for the past months – more than that – for…for a long time, it felt like. And tonight he’d really thought that the dance would be able to cheer Billy up, and honestly, he’d kind of needed Billy to be the good for him too. Especially after the last few weeks. About how everyone in the school was treating him, people he’d known his entire life. With Billy it was bearable. And he’d really wanted tonight, but he’d wanted it with Billy. 

His nostrils flared slightly, jaw clenching, because he didn’t know what to do. He felt caught in the middle – he felt like he couldn’t be bad or argue or be hurt or show, anything that wasn’t good, or else he’d just hurt Billy all over again. It left him choked with indecision, unable to express himself. Like his feelings weren’t valid especially if they might upset Billy.

He staggered back, hands slipping from his pockets to hold themselves out for a minute, needing space. 

“That – that’s great, I’m really glad that you could talk with her. I know it’s not…l…lin-ear.” He stumbled over the word, voice stiff. “It’s okay to be scared. But you didn’t need to come for me.” 

***

Billy halted when he felt Steve tense up, backing up a step or two when Steve did. He blinked in surprise, an apology on the tip of his tongue but he held it. He held it because Steve looked at Billy like him being there hadn’t just fixed everything. It confused him at first and he tried to reason against it, that if he’d fucked up and made it okay then Steve would be happy. Right?

Except maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t a matter of fucking up and asking for penance, and maybe Billy hadn’t fucked up at all. Maybe it was just that Steve had dealt with all of this too and it wasn’t either of their faults, but they couldn’t—fix each other. There wasn’t any longevity in it. Maybe Steve needed him too, more than Billy had thought. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, palms out in surrender, not registering the little sting of not having everything quick and okay. “I didn’t—I mean yeah, I came for you. But not just you, for both of us. Because you shouldn’t spend prom alone when I love you and I want to be here too. I want to dance with you and not give a shit about anybody because they don’t matter. Just—what can I do? Can I help?”

***

Steve’s eyelashes fanned wide, nostrils pinching this time as his back straightened like a rod had been shoved up it. Blinking fast, the back of his nose still smarting, refusing to cry at Billy like some big stupid whiny baby. Even if he knew that’s what he was being. 

But he’d been there for Billy consistently since they’d started hanging out again – he’d been there when he’d been hurt by his dad, he’d tried helping him, he’d gotten the help from Hop even if Billy had fought him on that, too, and they’d figured out a new home and Steve had helped Billy after his dad’s last attack, made sure his dad legally trapped Neil away forever, and then he’d been with Billy through nightmares and long sleepless nights and been trying to help keep him happy even when he hadn’t wanted to move and be sweet to him.

Changed his bandaging, helped change his clothes, brushed his hair. Set up his entire birthday, made sure he was taken care of. Tried to help Billy be in a better place, be safe, and be happy, because Steve loved him. He was always caring for other people, always always giving - he never gave it much thought.

But for Steve, his house was still always empty – empty enough that they could fuck on the carpet and he could hide lube in the end of the couch without worries of repercussions. Steve was used to having this ebbing tide of loneliness throughout his entire life, nannies when he was young, sometimes with his gramps, until Grandpa O died – after that, his mom hadn’t bothered with nannies, figured he was old enough. 

Steve had clung onto Tommy and Carol and Nancy as lifelines, he supposed, and he tried to get along better with himself so that he wouldn’t lapse into that loneliness. Used to have house parties, fill up the empty spaces. He would dream of getting trapped in cold, dark tunnels alone. He knew all about Billy’s dreams, his nightmares, helped him through them. But Billy knew nothing about his – never questioned why steve left the lights on – not that that was his fault. He couldn’t know. 

But Steve was left alone with his dreams, too. He felt like he was constantly giving for Billy, and sometimes, sometimes he would hope for a little bit of it back. Tonight, he’d needed that. He’d needed to not be here alone, especially after the last two weeks. After their time ‘in the closet.’ 

He’d even put off waiting to ask Billy to prom, because he wanted to make sure Billy had recovered enough. If he had known Billy wouldn’t go, he wouldn’t have expected it, and he wouldn’t have been let down. He could have done something else after committee wrapped up, or tried to plan for something else, like with a friend or something – who, he didn’t know. 

“I…I told you that, that you didn’t need to give a shit at your house. That it didn’t matter what they thought. And I did spend it alone, it’s half finished. I needed – “ Steve blinked rapidly, his throat trembling slightly. “I needed you to be here. If you didn’t want to go - if you were scared - you could have told me before. When I asked you.”

***

Billy chewed his cheek so that he wouldn’t respond right away, watching the hurt play across Steve’s face. The guilt over ducking out and disappointing Steve had absolutely nothing on this, this real, tangible result. His own eyes stung but he sucked in a deep breath, held it until it aches and let it out. 

“I was just—so happy. I thought it would be fine and I wasn’t expecting that to happen. So I said yes, because I wanted to, I want to,” he said, fighting with every muscle in his body not to take any steps forward, not even an inch. “I didn’t—I’m still not—I didn’t think you needed me. I should’ve and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Steve, I’m—you need somebody too. I’m sorry that I didn’t, that I don’t think about you enough.”

***

Steve’s throat really started to ache when Billy said ‘you need somebody too.’ It just felt like a lot. It felt like more than just Billy, more than just prom. It felt like more than that. In an all encompassing way Steve didn’t entirely understand. But what he knew was that when he loved someone, and Steve loved fiercely and he loved a lot, was that he needed them there for him - but he’d never really experienced that. And with Nancy, he’d constantly been throwing his love and attention at her, and she’d completely blown him off. 

Billy didn’t do that – he didn’t blow him off. But Steve was exhausted, because he thought that with love, part of the territory was having someone there for you. That you didn’t have to be so alone like the rest of your life.

‘I don’t think about you enough.’Steve’s face actually broke at that, crumpling beneath his perfectly styled pompadour. He took another step back, shoulders still rigid, shaking his head, and he didn’t trust himself to speak anymore.

Someone else seemed to be watching their interaction, lost on the dance floor. Apparently reading their body language. Tommy called from across the way “You okay, Harrington?!” loud enough to be heard over the music, cupping his mouth. Watching them from where he was leaning against the wall, drinking out of a flask, Carol gabbing with some girlfriends closeby. Clearly taking a break from dancing, sweat making his hair glisten in the bright blue and white strobe lights. 

Steve glanced over his shoulder at his ex-best friend, blinking like a startled owl in the bright, wheeling lights. Lower lip wobbling, traitorous tears slipping past his defenses. He wanted to go home. Steve never cried, and Tommy knew that. Tommy got up off the wall. 

***

Billy reached out for Steve but thought better of it, his hands moving back and sinking into his jacket. He knew that look and while he knew Steve wasn’t afraid of him, he was still hurting him. He didn’t know how to stop hurting Steve, hadn’t ever crossed this bridge before—

He watched Tommy straighten up across the gym, people parting for him. He wasn’t afraid, not of fighting Tommy. He could level him if he had to and he knew it, anger or no anger. It was the implications of Tommy moving, what he’d seen to make him move. 

“Steve, I’m not gonna touch you,” he said, fingers curling and uncurling in his white jacket. “I promise. But do you need some air? Some space?”

***

Steve still didn’t trust his throat to form words, pushing his fingers into his eyes impatiently to try and brush away the tears – so embarrassing, crying in the middle of the gym, people all around them. But it was dark, with just the flash of lights. No one was watching? Right? He sort of nodded to Billy’s words. Air sounded good. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, shoulders shuddering.

“Hey – you okay? What’s goin’ on?” Tommy asked – he was wearing this goofy orange suit with a ruffled undershirt that looked like it belonged in the late seventies. 

Honestly it was pretty bizarre, him asking. But somehow, not bizarre enough for Steve to be surprised. Really no matter what had happened in their lives, the fights they got into, the shit that happened, Tommy usually came back around again. 

But it was pretty fucking difficult to even look at him lately, especially after the closet thing, and the photo. The photos on the lockers. Steve reasonably knew it was Carol, that Tommy had gone along like he usually did. He used to go along with Steve like that. He was a follower. It just felt like they’d been in a really big fight for a really long time. 

***

Billy looked at Steve to see if he would answer but he didn’t get anything. Just that sad face becoming distraught, his cheeks turning pink. He found that, weirdly enough, he didn’t feel like punching Tommy’s lights out. Even after the locker, his car, the closet, the pictures. It didn’t matter, not then anyway. 

“I’m a fucking asshole because I didn’t show up until just now,” he offered, trying to step around possibly speaking for Steve the best that he could, trying not to have anything come out wrong. “I asked him if he wanted to go outside, get away for a minute. Right? It’s okay if you changed your mind. I don’t have to go with you either, if you don’t want me to.”

***

Steve was dripping tears on his tux. He’d have to get it dry-cleaned again. Damn. Somehow that’s all he could think about. 

He blinked sluggishly up at Tommy, eyes all tearbright.

Tommy pursed his mouth at Billy, then looked back at Steve, the one who he’d actually been asking. “Yeah? You ok? He’s not bothering you, Stevie?”

If it was two years ago, Steve would have been over against the wall drinking out of his flask with Tommy and Carol and probably getting high under the bleachers with Tommy’s shitty, horrible weed. Even if Billy hadn’t been there, it would’ve been okay. But he didn’t have that either. Steve made a choking sound. He was so fucking tired of feeling alone.  
“No, he’s not, I – yeah, yeah air. I’m sorry I said you were an asshole. I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry.” He said to Tommy, hiccup sighing and wishing he could melt into the gym floor, pressing his hands over his face. 

***

Billy waited until he was sure, until Tommy didn’t look so paranoid. Then he did reach out but it was an aborted gesture, just a light brush on Steve’s back before he stepped aside instead. He let Steve lead the way and didn’t look back, just down. Down at all of the balloons Steve had blown up himself, probably by himself. 

Steve seemed to settle on staying out by the bleachers so Billy sat down on the grass of the field, looking up at Steve but not encouraging him to sit down. He didn’t want to push Steve into something even as small as sitting, not right now. 

“Sweetheart, Steve, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the inside pocket of his jacket and lighting it, extending the pack up to Steve in case he wanted one. He inhaled and let the smoke burn his lungs, exhaled out into the night. It was like seeing his own breath that first night, outside of Tommy’s house. “You can be upset and tell me you need me. I’m—bad at it, taking care of people. I'm sorry if it hurt you to hear that, that I don’t feel like I think about you enough. It’s not that I don’t think about you, I just—have been selfish. I know that. I need to remember all of the things I know about you, think about that more. You shouldn’t have had to be alone here.”

***

Steve did sit, though. He sat down on one of the bleachers, the metal of it cold against the ass of his dress slacks. He leaned forward to wrap his arms around his knees, pressing his face into the cool space between the arms of his baby blue jacket. Trying to breathe, but his lungs still felt too tight, and he was huffing little sobs.

He felt like some of this was left over emotion built up from the past few months – it had been a lot. And it had been a lot of taking care of Billy, which, he didn’t feel entirely equipped for. He was good at loving, and he was good at caring for people, but that was why he had directed Billy to his Auntie Bea. He knew he didn’t understand much of what was going on in Billy’s mind. 

And he knew it wasn’t fair of him to expect Billy to know or understand what Steve might need, especially in that state. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to ask of anyone. Because it wasn’t just Billy. He’d just expected differently from Billy. That’s all. 

He’d been so excited for tonight, he’d been glowing about it since Billy’s birthday and he got the ‘yes’ – well before that, really, because he hadn’t really expected a ‘no.’ Not really. He’d been planning for prom with the committee since last fall, so it was even more than that – months of anticipation and excitement and he’d been so ready to spend it with the person he loved. It just felt ruined now.  
Steve snuffled into the cave of his arms, ignoring the offered cigarette. 

“I was just, really excited, for tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it for – years. I even got on the committee and, helping prepare for it, and I just…really wanted to spend it with you, because I love you, and – and we could even dance, or whatever, people already know. I was so excited.” Half of the words were practically unintelligible, a mangled mess. Tears slipping between the gap of his thighs to ping against the bleacher top. “Nothing bad even happened.”

***

Billy couldn’t help trying to step into how Steve must’ve been feeling, his eyes stinging and his vision wobbling while he listened. He heard Steve telling him nothing bad happened and he was right, it was just him. He was the one who made something bad happen and Max had told him not to invite bad shit in just because it was normal but—he’d already done it. Maybe next time, hopefully there was one. As for tonight it didn’t feel like there was, that he’d sullied this long awaited memory for Steve all because he hadn’t paid enough attention. 

His heart twisted sharply in his chest and he set his cigarette down, discarding the pack in the grass. He reached out slowly, moving along the ground until he hit Steve’s ankle, fingertips barely touching his loafers. Shiny, like he’d done them up just right, just for tonight. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking somewhere at the end, fingers trying to curl over the centimeter of patent leather he was touching. “I should’ve been here, I shouldn’t have left you here. You’re alone all the time and you take care of me and my shit all the time. You—I should’ve been here. I should’ve been here and made that real for you. We should’ve been dancing an hour ago. Steve, I’m so sorry.”

***

Steve couldn’t help, his face still hidden in his arms – sensing the curl of Billy’s hand around his ankle – adding on a pointed “Hour and a half ago.” 

But it felt better. Just a little. It took some of the sting out. It was different than in the gym, with Billy saying that it was about how Billy had just figured it out like Steve hadn’t told him the same things, and that he’d needed his 14 year old sister to guide the way. That had just upset him more. What Steve needed to hear was just Billy acknowledging that Steve hadn’t wanted to be alone, needed him there for him, like how Steve tried to be there for him. That Steve was alone a lot, because no one seemed to notice but Steve.

Not excuses and why he’d suddenly seen the light. Just what should have been, what Steve had wanted, which really hadn’t felt like asking a lot. Prom only happened the one time. That was it. They weren’t a big high school that had junior and senior proms, they were too small for that. You only had the one on your senior year. 

Some of the tears started to ease up then, his shoulders starting to relax. He even untucked his face from between his arms – blinking like somehow the dark of the field was too bright for him. 

***

Billy moved to criss cross his legs, pivoting himself a bit to face Steve more fully. Normally he would’ve snorted at the comment, kind of like how he did when Steve would say no street clothes in bed even when it wasn’t his bed they were on. Like this he was nodding furiously, trying to picture what an extra half hour tacked on felt like. 

“An hour and a half ago,” he corrected himself, moving his hand back from Steve’s foot to stub his cigarette out completely, turning back to face him with his hand still out. “Can I touch you? Is that alright? Just your hand?”

He knew he’d be fine if Steve said no but he still looked so downtrodden, like Billy had crushed his dreams. He really had, even if there was some small chance of salvaging a little bit of it. There wasn’t anything he could do to change the beginning of it, but maybe now. Maybe not fixing, but mending. 

***

He’d really been vomiting up the prom-dreams shrapnel for a while, and it was making him feel sick. Steve’s hair felt limp compared to earlier, and his shoulders still sagged with the weight of the evening. Bowed over the curl of his body where he sort of crouched on the bleachers. Watching Billy with unsteady, mournful dark doe eyes. The lashes bright with tears. 

“Mm...guess so.” He murmured after a moment’s contemplation, still sounding rather pissy, but permissive. He’d been pretty against it in the gym, but out here, with the wide expanse of space and without the press of bodies around them in their prom best, he didn’t feel so overwhelmed and as fucking crushed. Still pretty crushed, but not as bad. The fresh air did help, but mostly it was thanks to Billy speaking more earnestly.

He twisted his wrist to the left, just a little, offering the pads of his fingers so that they were facing upwards, towards the star smattered sky. The moon gazing down at them sleepily. 

“The band played - I Want to Know What Love Is.” He added as an afterthought, sniffling.

***

Billy took the offered hand the second it was given, rubbing circles into the center of Steve’s palm with his thumb. He lifted it up to his mouth and pressed a kiss against Steve’s knuckles, all long, smooth fingers that looked like they’d never seen the sun before. At Steve’s words he frowned over the hand he was kissing, squeezing it and lowering it into his own lap. 

“Your face, can I touch your face?” he asked softly, not moving any closer but ready. He thought about that song and how hokey it had seemed, watching Steve sing along to it underneath him and cracking at the smile Steve had worn. It wasn’t there now but—he loved Steve, he hoped he could see it again. “I remember you singing it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when it played, sweetheart.”

***

Steve’s only assent for his face was a vague shrug and half-hearted nod, focusing on the light, tickling sensation of Billy drawing into his palm. The brush of his carnation lips over Steve’s knuckles. His stuttering breath was finally starting to even out, blinking away some of the last of the tears, save for a rogue one here and there.

“It’s – so cheesy. It was just to…break up some of the tension. Make you smile.” 

If Billy had been there, Steve would have play-sung it to him again while they danced, wiggling suggestively. Billy would’ve laughed, maybe even a real belly laugh. Steve sighed, looking away and totally pouting, his forehead all wrinkled up. There was plenty of tension tonight to go around, mostly radiating out of Steve. But he didn’t know how to break up that tension. Usually he was very laid back, very easy going, but he’d really worked himself up. Was very upset. He couldn’t just flick a reset button. But Billy knew all of his spots, knew how Steve worked (except about tonight, he guessed.)

Steve liked having his hands touched, and his face – liked the way Billy asked just to be sure, because it had really set Steve off that Steve hadn’t agreed to dance, and Billy had started to anyways. Touching him when he hadn’t wanted to be touched. Usually Billy never needed to ask, but for now, he appreciated the gesture. 

***

Billy scooted forward, one hand still holding Steve’s, the other moving to hold his jaw. He swept his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone and he was close enough to smell the cologne he was wearing, the product he’d put in his hair just for tonight. He always looked absolutely perfect but tonight was different, each part of him shining under the moonlight. He watched the pout on Steve’s lips form and brushed his thumb over them, hoping to smooth the emotion out. 

“It did, sweetheart, makes me smile just thinking about it,” he said softly, offering a small uptick of his lips, fingers moving back over his cheek. “You look beautiful, I should’ve been looking at it. For the last hour and a half.”

***

Unlike on the dance floor, Steve didn’t mind the touch of Billy’s rough, callused fingers across his face – gliding over his cheekbone and grasping at his jaw. His mouth parted slightly at the attention to his lower lip, brow furrowing and not quite meeting Billy’s eyes, looking somewhere around his shoulder area. 

“Charmer.” Steve mumbled against Billy’s fingers, the corner of his mouth twitching a little like in an almost smile at the ‘and a half.’ It had been a valid point, Steve thought – thirty extra minutes had felt like a lot of time, the seconds crawling by. 

His gaze trailed over Billy’s bent frame, leaned towards Steve like with some kind of magnetic attraction, taking in his totally hot Miami Vice suit. With just a white t-shirt underneath, practically see through – it was really very Billy. With the rose pinned to the jacket that Steve got him when he’d actually expected good things out of tonight.

“Thanks. You look really good too.” He admitted, eyes red, voice a little monotone, morose and disconnected. He shifted his face over to rub his eyes against the shoulder of his tux – darkening the expensive, pale blue fabric. 

***

Billy tutted at Steve, letting go of his hand to wipe at his cheeks himself. He kept his movements slow, gliding over teary eyelashes and pushing a few strands of hair behind his ears. He looked at the damp spot on the tux and frowned, guilt washing over his features again. 

“Mm, sometimes,” he conceded, a sad smile on his face. “Sometimes I’m a selfish dickhead too. Bad timing with it. I really am sorry, I’ll try and make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m gonna pay more attention, not let you be all on your own. You deserve better than that.”

He did, Steve deserved much better than that. Worlds better than being left alone at prom, being left alone period. The feeling twisted his guts up but he set it aside for the moment, watching Steve’s face where it was bracketed by his hands. Watching his breathing even out more, eyes still not on Billy, but maybe he’d get them there again. 

***

“No, no,” Steve sighed, shaking his head, trying to clear it and all of the fuzzies in there from crying. Letting Billy smooth away any remaining tears, dry his lashes. “You’re not a selfish dickhead. You’re not even selfish. I don’t – I don’t know why I got so upset, I’m sorry, I – it’s totally stupid, I’m totally stupid.” His face started to crease up again, mouth trembling as it started to sneak up on him again. 

“I totally ruined you showing up in the middle and I should have just been fine. I’m b-being a total, total girl.”

He caught his lower lip in his teeth, eyes squinting as Billy’s shoulder started to blur up again. Shit. He leaned his head a little into one of the large hands that was cupping the side of his face.

‘I’m gonna pay more attention, not let you be all on your own. You deserve better than that.’

Steve’s eyes tipped up at that, finally meeting Billy’s bright blue ones - they matched Steve’s jacket - an unsure line burrowing it’s way between his brows. He felt as if he was consistently bending over backwards for everyone around him - he’d always been that way. But it was rarely, if ever, returned. And usually that didn’t bother him. He knew that Billy was good at caring for people - he ‘d seen it. Good at caring for Steve. Like when he’d saved Steve at the party, or when Steve’d been dripping and chilled with slushee. He loved Steve. Steve didn’t know why he was so upset. ‘All on your own.’ Maybe he was just tired of that. Maybe it had been too much tonight.

“Yeah?”

***

“Yeah, sweetheart, you do,” Billy said, firm but quiet. “You’re not being stupid or anything else like that. You’re feeling bad, remember it’s alright to feel like that? I don’t want to fix it because there’s nothing wrong with it, but I do want to help. If I can.”

He busied himself wiping at Steve’s face again though there were only a few tears now, one hand reaching up to try and smooth the line between his eyebrows like he always did. He knew why Steve got upset, but maybe Steve didn’t quite know. It was hard when you were in it, he knew that more than anyone. 

“If you’ll let me.”

***

Steve’s dark eyes, still overbright and pink at the rims, stared up at Billy a bit skeptically, (his spine had drooped enough that their height difference was a bit off), arching a slender eyebrow. He didn’t know how Billy planned on helping it. The night already felt pretty much shot. Like, shot to death, multiple times. He shrugged a little and gave a nod, mouth pursing, obviously somewhat critical of the concept, but also willing enough to nod to see what Billy meant for ‘helping.’ 

He allowed Billy’s blunt, callused fingers to smooth over his face, all rough and careful - smoothing away tears, and smoothing away the line between his brows, until his face grew more relaxed and open. Willing to let Billy try. Tentatively trusting.

“What did you have in mind?” 

***

“Well, can I kiss you?”

Billy wouldn’t have asked normally, would’ve done some heartbreaker move on Steve without a second thought. With this Steve, one who was teary eyed and tired of being so alone so often, he knew he needed to ask. If he could tell himself he was good at anything it was this, once he saw it. Knowing when not to push, not like this. Getting Steve to dance and Steve not wanting it would weigh heavy on his mind for some time, and he knew he never wanted to see that look on Steve’s face again. 

***

Steve’s lashes sloped down as he studied the curve of Billy’s mouth, the perfect bow of his upper lip, and the plush lower one. The way he had just that bit of peach fuzz above, and the bitty pretend-soul patch below. It was so fucking endearing, he’d always thought. Like trying to be bad ass but it just came across as cute as hell. And his cheeks were satin smooth, like he’d taken the time to shave before the dance.

His brain seemed to be ticking and he was still pretty miffed, or like sad? and not much in the mood, but he wouldn’t mind Billy trying to kiss it better. Again, he liked that Billy asked, mostly because he didn’t appreciate being pushed into anything if he was pissed off like before. Pissed, or hurting, whatever. 

He nodded again, his throat clicking as he swallowed hard. Shifting a bit on the cold metal so he was more turned towards Billy, tilting his upper body - one large hand twitching in Billy’s own, like as an afterthought. 

***

Billy set his hand on Steve’s cheek again, fingers fanning out across it. He used his thumb to hold Steve’s jaw in place as he leaned forward to make their lips meet. It was light at first, just his lips coaxing Steve’s, trying to get them to open up a little. He squeezed Steve’s hand and moved it, setting it over his own shoulder so he could press in closer. 

“Any better?” he whispered, pausing for another slow kiss, more intentional this time. “Or should I try again?”

***

The football field was spread out before them like an ocean of ink, only lit up by the moon. The bleachers glowing silver in starlight. And everything was washed in the low hum of music from the distant gym, even all the way out here.

Steve let out a little breath through his nose as Billy sealed their lips together, feather light against his own, like he was almost afraid of trying anything more than that. Steve’s eyelids automatically slipped shut, tipping his head so that their noses wouldn’t bump. With his free hand, he reached out to grasp at Billy’s jacket lapel when he landed the second kiss, holding him closer. His eyebrows screwed up a bit, as if he were in some kind of physical pain, though he wasn’t. 

He’d just wanted this kind of sweetness tonight. He’d wanted it to be perfect. He’d wanted this sooner. He’d wanted stolen kisses on the car ride to prom, he’d wanted them to dance, and he’d wanted them to sneak out for more kisses because they couldn’t wait any longer. Too motivated by each other’s bodies, the music, how freaking great they both looked. Saying ‘fuck everyone’ and not caring about anyone but themselves. After two weeks of absolute bullshit at school from people he thought he knew. A lone tear slid down his cheek.

“Again,” Steve sighed against his mouth, his lower lip remaining parted, like an invitation. His shoulders finally starting to ease, just enough. 

***

Billy nodded enough to dislodge their lips, though he tried to make up for it. He surged forward and took the bottom lip that had been offered to him, licking inside of Steve’s mouth insistently and sighing low into the kiss. It had only been a day since he’d last done this and it felt like a lifetime, a memory of Steve telling him he’d missed him over a weekend back in the beginning gone as quick as it came. 

He slid the hand not holding Steve’s jaw in place up his back, settling between his shoulder blades as he moved onto his knees. He knocked gently at Steve’s legs with his own until he could fit between them, about to lay them both down before he hesitated. 

“This alright? It’s okay if it’s not, we can just go dance.”

***

Steve twisted his hand up a little tighter into Billy’s jacket lapel, still being careful so as not to wrinkle it – but trying to tug him closer all the same. His legs responded easily, spreading to the sides to let Billy slide into their place. Thighs knocked wide as he tucked his shiny, leather dockers behind Billy’s lower back, long legs wrapping around his waist. Making the hems of his pant legs edge up, ankles crossed, showing his crew cut socks off. 

His eyes flicked open at the delay, dewed lashes catching the light as he frowned a little – already half leaned back, with Billy’s hand braced behind his shoulder blades to help ease him to the bleacher top. 

He pressed his own mouth back this time, mumbling “’s fine, ‘s fine,” against Billy’s chin, before he clumsily licked against Billy’s full lower lip. “Just kiss me?” 

***

Billy didn’t need any more of a go ahead, hands moving as his lips picked up where they left off. He slid Steve’s jacket over his shoulders while he nipped at Steve’s upper lip, carefully laying it on metal, not wanting it to stain. Then he finally laid Steve down on his back, cradling his head, making sure not to mess his hair up as it hit. 

“What can I give you, sweetheart?” he asked, nudging Steve’s nose with his own in a gentle tease. “What do you want?”

He knew it wouldn’t be difficult to tell what he wanted for long with fucking white cotton slacks on, dick already twitching in interest at the position their bodies were in. It was a pity that Steve looked so good and so well put together, that he’d worn all white on a grass field, but at least they were on the bleachers. He could practically picture the check mark in his head, another fantasy with the potential to be fulfilled. 

***

Steve’s back lay out in a straight line before he rolled it, getting a little pop out of his lower back as it hit the cool metal. He shivered a little as the icy surface bit through the flimsy material of his dress shirt. Both legs were still wrapped around Billy’s waist, all nice dress slacks, dockers in the air, fancy socks crossed at the ankle. His chin lifted, mouth parting as he tried to catch at Billy’s lips, but all he got was noses to noses, a total tease. 

He didn’t remove his fingers from Billy’s jacket, though he knew that, reasonably, his should probably be taken off too – but Billy wasn’t the one lying on his back. It had been a while since Steve had been the one on his back – just that one time really. When Steve’d mock sung ‘I wanna know what love is.’ It seemed like a lifetime ago. An eternity gone by. 

The cerulean, silk bow tie at Steve’s throat bobbed when he swallowed, staring up at Billy with large doe eyes, framed with thick lashes. Trying not to be all sniffly like a total baby.

“You. Just want you. It won’t – won’t fix it – but I just – “ Steve echoed Billy from earlier. Couldn’t fix it, but he could help it. 

Steve’s fingers convulsed a little in the cream hued jacket fabric, while he lifted his other hand to grasp at the hip of Billy’s pants. Tugging gently at the belt loop there, where he locked his thumb. Urging him down, a silent plea to make it better. Take away the sting. Replace it with something else.

***

Billy went willingly, more than willingly, sinking down fully and pressing their hips together. It made his breath stutter, eyelids fluttering despite himself. Steve still wanted him even after tonight, making him cry, souring part of the night. He tried to push the thoughts aside and take a good look at the boy below him, his boy. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, holding Steve’s jaw up as he moved his mouth down, starting on a mark above the collar of Steve’s shirt. He hummed against the skin and gave it a short nip, a distraction while he slid a hand down the front of his dress pants, smiling lazily to himself. “You want me here?”

***

Steve gasped up at the expanse of sky as Billy mouthed at his neck, sucking a hot spot there, letting his chin be held up and exposing the soft of his throat. Eyes closing against the stars as Billy’s teeth teased at his skin, rocked his head back for more. Steve’s hips arched up a little off the bleacher, pressing against Billy – pressing his quickly formed erection against him, too. 

When that hand slipped between the edge of the cumberbund and the waistband of his slacks, Steve found himself nodding against the hand pillowing his head, almost automatically. He used the dress heels at Billy’s back to lift his hips even more, practically hovering his ass above the metal surface. Rolling them slightly in anticipation, and snaking his arms around Billy’s shoulders.

“Please,” he choked out. 

***

Billy nodded, soft shushing sounds muffled into Steve’s neck as his fingers wrapped around his cock. He shuddered at the feeling of it, hot and heavy in his hand, swiping precome off of the head with his thumb before beginning a slow rhythm with his fingers. His hips moved of their own volition, rutting up against nothing but the slick fabric of Steve’s pants, nowhere near enough. 

“Alright, sweetheart, keep those hips up for me,” he hummed, letting Steve’s head go carefully while he worked another mark against that soft, freckled skin. “Just like that, that’s good.”

He slipped his hand mournfully out of the pants and reminded himself it was for something better, worked the button and zipper out and open to yank them down to Steve’s ankles along with his underwear. He made sure Steve’s legs stayed up, a hand pressing them back toward his chest by the back of his thigh, the other digging into his jacket to pull a packet of lube out. Ripping it with his teeth felt ridiculous and perfectly filthy, watching Steve’s ass like he was hypnotized as he squirted some out over his hole, setting the packet down in favor of slipping his index finger up to the first knuckle. 

“Jesus, you should see yourself,” he said, using the distraction of his finger to move, straddling the bench and pulling Steve’s bottom half back up against him, the hand not busy working him open pressing those long legs up again. “Look at you, sweetheart, all messy for me. That feel good?”

***

Steve’s eyes had popped open, keeping his hips up obediently –thighs pressed up against his own chest. He grasped at his own left leg, hugging it, while his other arm arched up above his own head. He grasped at the silver bench beneath his head, the metal lip digging into his palm as he curled his fingers against the edge. 

He was ridiculously exposed – he’d never actually had sex somewhere this publicly. 

He’d always liked the idea of it, he’d gotten close to it – in places like the library study rooms. But here it was for the entire world to see, the galaxy above them, and not a thing to hide them. No closed doors, no bookshelves, nothing. Steve was on his back where half the town sat to watch football games in the fall, baseball in summer. Steve’s cock was pulsing with arousal at the concept, oozing against his stomach where his shirt was ruched up, making a mess. He hissed in a breath as Billy’s finger worked into him, his own long fingers spasming against the bleacher bench. His hips stuttered up blindly at the feeling of Billy’s finger, oozing with lube, squelching obscenely. Liked Billy telling him what to do. Directing him, praising him. 

It had his hips squirming where they were up in the air, a shocked little moan escaping his lungs. His ass was braced up against Billy’s thigh – feeling heavy and foreignly full, but not nearly full enough – not like the last time he’d had Billy’s cock inside of him. It stung, a little, but it was quickly softened to more of an aching want by the lube and Billy’s words. 

He was already marathoning for air, overwhelmed and completely exposed to cool night air, ravaged by Billy’s gaze. He wondered what he did look like, was almost embarrassed to think of it, but also impossibly turned on by it. Completely spread out before Billy in nothing but his nicest dress shirt and a bow tie, feeling so filthy with his knees up to his chest. Calvins around his ankles. His thighs spreading so wide his hips popped, with a flush crawling up his neck, coloring his face red.

“Oh my god, “ Steve gasped, half keening, mouth hanging open, lashes fluttering. His hips trying to work down onto Billy’s finger, wanting more. But also not wanting it to ever end, wanting it to draw out. “Y-yeah, f- feels good. Jesus, Billy – Billy – baby, fuck, fuck me, fuck me, please.”

***

“Not yet, almost,” Billy said soothingly, his middle finger joining the first, crooking and spreading them inside of Steve. “You gotta be ready first, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

He tried to be comforting but he was humping against the curve of Steve’s perfectly round ass, dick still trapped inside of his slacks. He curled his fingers intentionally, massaging the bundle of nerves he knew was there, pressing with insistent fingers until there wasn’t much give left. His cock wasn’t exactly as thin as his fingers but it was the best he could do outside, the rush of it making him groan. 

He let go of Steve’s leg because he knew just how strong Steve’s hand was, knew he could keep himself open if he needed to and Steve needed him. He used his free hand to undo the slacks, pulling his cock out of the front but not bothering to push them down, too eager to move any slower now. His fingers slipped out of Steve’s ass one by one to coat his cock, his hand moving to Steve’s hip to pull him up against him. 

“I’ve got you, Steve,” he repeated, the sound of his voice choked off in a moan as the head of his cock slipped inside, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He took a few heavy breaths to steady himself because it felt like nothing else in the world, Steve’s body perfect and slick and tight just for him. Making himself look down he found Steve’s eyes, his own blown wide and glazed over with pleasure. “Ready? Tell me.”

***

Jesus, Steve’d honest to god forgotten what it felt like. Like having an electric button pressed inside of him that sent waves of electricity through his veins, lighting him up. Pleasure wrapping up his spine and squeezing. He had to try not to cry out, biting his lip as he saw absolute white, starbursts of it behind his eyelids, along with breathy cries muffled into his teeth. Cheeks puffing out with each aborted sound, and mindlessly working his hips up at nothing, making the bench rattle.

And after the brief, awful loss of those fingers, Steve actually got what he really wanted. What he’d asked for. 

Steve choked on a whimper as Billy’s cockhead pushed past the rim, holding himself steady. Telling him he ‘had him,’ and Steve believed him. It was fire for only a second, made him spasm a bit against the bleacher, but he really gripped the cold metal to pull himself back into reality. He tried to remember to breathe when he realized he’d stopped, his chest gone still, panting through his mouth like an animal. When those pupil blown blue eyes met his, also arousal dark, Steve gave himself a minute to try and stop the floaty feeling. To not feel like he was being split in two, trying to bring back that promising ache from before instead. It took a second for him to feel ready enough to nod, his perfect pompadour splayed out over the silver. 

“Ready. Ready, ‘m ready. F-fuck, want you to – in me,” he said a little nonsensically, his brain feeling absolutely disconnected from his mouth. Like a wire had gotten crossed. He tightened his grip around his leg like in some kind of preparation, felt the way his own body trembled in anticipation and nerves.

***

Billy nodded, dazed himself by what he was looking at, what kind of picture they made together. Him with all of his clothes on for once, just his cock out, folding Steve’s body in half with a hand gripping his ass as he started to fuck into him. As much as he wanted to spend hours spreading Steve out, turning him boneless and sleepy and happy, he knew they didn’t have that kind of time here. 

What started as a slow rock quickly became more purposeful, some primal urge to keep rutting into the body he couldn’t stop pulling back into him. He felt all awareness fall to the wayside, totally engrossed in the sensation of Steve’s ass around his cock, the way it pulsed, the way it tensed before it gave way. It pulled choppy, desperate moans out of him, words gone too. 

He leaned himself over Steve’s body completely, pinning him to the metal and listening to the sharp slap of skin on skin, the filthy, wet sounds they made. His hand slid up one of Steve’s thighs from his hip, pushing down and staying there, the other coming up to cradle his head again. Holding him down, keeping him there, letting Steve know without a fucking doubt that he was there. That he wasn’t by himself. 

***

Steve was totally overcome by Billy, Billy everywhere. Billy inside of him, Billy above him, Billy pressing him down, Billy holding him together. Making the bench rattle like mad beneath them where he straddled it, rocking into Steve with some kind of purpose, this single minded purpose, and it was fucking Steve down into the bleachers. 

With each snap of Billy’s hips, each smack of their skin, a tiny cry broke out of Steve’s throat, intermixed with almost delirious moans. Hungry, aching things. His fingers convulsing against the bench, scrabbling against it for purchase. But only until Billy leaned over him. When he leaned over him, Steve’s hand abandoned it’s post to reach up and grasp at Billy’s hair instead. Twisting there, tight, like he knew Billy liked, tugging with each thrust. Gasping, his eyes rolling up into his skull. 

He was so fucking full, Billy was splitting him apart at the seams, filling him up completely. Although Billy was pulling Steve back onto him, he couldn’t help his own hips bucking, trying to work himself on to Billy’s cock. Or the way his own dick would jump, aching, leaking all over himself. Making a mess. Flustered and red and moaning, trying to keep his lips together, making them vibrate. 

The arm around his own bent, naked thigh curled tighter, tried pulling his own hips even wider, trying to make room. Because the sharpness had dulled to an ache had quickly morphed into wild fucking pleasure. Had him almost sobbing, tears forming in his eyes again for entirely different reasons than before – although it could have had something to do with that, too. The tears slid down his temples. Because Billy was here, he’d shown up, he was still with Billy at prom and they were fucking on the goddamn bleachers outside the gym.

And all he could think about was Billy. His Billy. His cologne heavy and intoxicating in his nose, mixed with pheromones and heady sweat. Making him dizzy. Steve’s hips worked more desperately , like he was chasing something, needing something. His full, heavy cock bouncing on his stomach, smearing pre-come over his satin cummerbund and not even paying any mind. 

***

Billy’s mouth dropped open at the hand in his hair, his hips moving twice as fast as if on command. He looked down at Steve and suddenly it was all he could see, the face he cherished so much screwed up in pleasure because of him. The hand under Steve’s head stayed gentle and still but the rest of him was frantic at the tears in Steve’s eyes, ones he knew weren’t bad from experience. 

“L-ove you, I love you so much,” he breathed out, hitching Steve’s hips up higher, aiming for the spot he knew so well. 

He drove his own harder, faster until it felt like nothing but pistoning his hips, desperately fucking into the greatest feeling he’d ever had, Steve’s body sucking him in and holding him there. He pushed Steve’s cummerbund and shirt up as high as he could, knew it might wrinkle but couldn’t think of any reason to stop. Not when his next move was stroking Steve’s cock, giving him ample room to come when he was ready. 

***

Steve’s mouth was forming the ‘L’ like he was trying to get it out, mouthing the words ‘love you,’ with nothing but air. Punched out of him. Because as his hips were tilted up at an angle, and Billy started driving into that fucking spot, everything fell apart, including him. He was unraveled by the relentless slide and drag of Billy’s cock inside of him, fingers wrapped up so tight in that golden hair his knuckles ached. 

His other hand trembled as he tried to keep his legs up, moaning desperately as bright colors swam behind his eyelids – truly attempting to keep them open, to watch Billy like this fierce, wild maned lion above him... but they fluttered closed outside of his control. His spine rolled with each thrust, the metal bench clanging with the vibrations, and he was a total goner when Billy’s hand wrapped around his dick. His hips stuttered up, shocked and desperate and needy, rutting up into Billy’s touch. Head rocking back into that soft hand. 

He knew they were rushed, knew they were in the middle of the freaking wannabe Hawkins High Stadium. And he knew that he was so close, about to tumble over the edge, but he didn’t want it to end, wanted it to last forever. But it wouldn’t, couldn’t, and he gave a sharp gasp, clenching up as Billy started to stroke him, his nerves absolutely on fire. Burning him up.

***

“C’mon sweetheart, I’ve got you remember?” Billy panted, pausing to whimper at a particularly good thrust, his neck bared while Steve yanked his hair. “Let me—see you come, let—go for me.”

He really wanted it more than anything, more than his own orgasm despite how quick he was chasing it. His thrusts stayed frantic but with sure strokes, aiming and knowing he was hitting the spot if Steve’s gasps were anything to go by, the wordless sounds leaving his mouth. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever fucking seen. Tearing Steve apart and letting Steve feel what he did to him every time, turning him inside out until he was in a million little pieces. 

***

Billy asking him to come is what did it, had Steve babbling Billy’s name under his breath and shaking apart. Telling him to let go. It felt like it only took a few strokes of Billy’s hand over his cock, slick with lube, before Steve was coming all over his stomach – thankfully with the cummerbund slipped up out of place, all the way up around his ribs. Knees pressed there, too, along with his heart. 

“Oh – uh god Billy, Billy – Billy – ‘m, ple – ba – uh,” 

Waves of pleasure washed over him, lit him up like the fourth of july fireworks that sometimes people watched from this very field, and he had to let go of his leg to shove his palm between his own teeth to muffle the cry that threatened. Freezing up, then forgetting to breathe, heart rocketing in his chest. Hissing air around his hand. 

He came down from the high almost dizzy, disoriented, cock twitching a few more times against his stomach as Billy continued to pound into him – the nerves over sensitive and weak, though he tried to keep his own hips moving, to help Billy get to his own orgasm. Mimicking what Billy’d done for him when Billy’d come first, and Steve was inside him. Fingers loosening just a little, like he’d forgotten they were there, but not letting go.

***

Billy’s eyes went wide as he watched Steve come, watched him babble and go slack, his hips weakly trying to meet his own. His hand slipped from under Steve’s head, both digging into each ass cheek to thrust as hard as he could, too lost in the rapid fire sound of their skin, the wet squelch of his cock inside of Steve. 

He couldn’t speak when he came, pulling out at the very last second, come panting the bleachers while he held Steve’s ass up and away from it. His hands shook and he was thankful he had the minuscule presence of mind to scoot Steve back so he could collapse on top of him, whimpering into Steve’s neck as his orgasm petered out, his whole body twitching. 

He still couldn’t speak a few seconds afterward, breath hitching and unfathomably huge emotions welling up inside of him. It wasn’t ruined, Steve was still there, he would be okay. He could make Steve feel less alone, like this and every other way he could manage. 

***

As Billy collapsed down atop of him, Steve’s breath rose and fell rapid pace beneath him. He accepted Billy’s full weight without any qualms, as both arms curled around his neck, shuddering breaths panted into those shorter curls atop his head. His eyes remained closed, gently holding his boyfriend close. 

Trembling against him with the force of what just happened. Totally blissed out on his orgasm, and the long length of Billy against him, all wide and comforting and perfect. Warmth above him, the bench chilled beneath. Balancing out Steve in the middle. His bare thighs were spread out at Billy’s sides, straddling him, which was a little awkward because his pants were still around his ankles beneath him. 

“Love you. I love you. I love you. So glad you’re here.” Steve murmured breathily into Billy’s crown, trying to catch his breath. “God that was amazing. You’re amazing.” He clasped at his own wrist behind Billy’s neck, making a firm hold around him, not wanting to let him go. 

***

“Love you,” Billy hummed, nodding into Steve’s neck. The way he was holding him in place was comforting, like he had somewhere safe to completely crash even if he knew they shouldn’t stay there long. “Feel okay?”

He slid a hand down to tug the stupid burnt orange handkerchief he had in his front pocket—it matched the earrings—and wiped at Steve’s stomach as carefully as he could, tossing it out onto the field with a grin that was a little bit mischievous. Without moving off of Steve he tucked the crisp dress shirt back down, fitting the cummerbund snugly and pulling his pants back up for him, smoothing down the blue fabric before tucking himself back into his own pants. 

“Much as I’d like to just stay here, I don’t know if it would be the best idea,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to Steve’s jaw and relaxing against him, arms wrapping around his waist now that they were both fully dressed. Only minor scandal to worry about. 

***

“Mmmh. Mhm. Better.” Steve nodded almost drowsily, letting Billy fix him back up, didn’t even have his bare ass on metal anymore. Although he was still a little disheveled. But what could anyone expect after getting fucked on the bleachers of the football field? He felt fizzy and bubbly with the after effects, sitting up after Billy. A little punch drunk like champagne, grinning stupidly at Billy, his hair sticking up in the back with a ducktail. 

“You’re right, prob’ly not.” Steve hummed, his grin softening into a smile as Billy pressed the lightest of kisses against his jaw. Leaning against him, tucking his arms around Steve’s waist. All warm and pliant and everything. Steve nuzzled against his temple, kissing his smooth cheek, smiling there for a moment. The tip of his nose pressed into Billy’s skin. Grabbing onto that cream jacket like an anchor. 

“Guess there’s still enough time for dancing. If you still wanted to?” Even after Steve’d kind of...thrown a bit of a bitch fit about it. If he did, that would be saying something.

***

Billy pulled back to look at Steve, eyebrows raised and a pleasantly surprised smile on his face. Despite his freak out he had actually wanted to dance with Steve, had thought about it for a while. In a club in Chicago was one thing but in front of everyone—well, those big feelings got a whole fucking lot bigger. 

“I—yeah,” he said, reaching up to straighten Steve’s hair out for him, licking the end of his thumb and sticking his hair back at the temple. “That’ll be two Steve Harrington Fantasies crossed off the list in one night, lucky lucky me. Now, you want virginal dancing Billy or do you want backing his fat ass up Billy?”

***

Steve laughed a little at that, rubbing any remaining stubborn tears that were clinging to his lashes away. Sniffling a little, and trying to clear his head by shaking it. His ass was fucking sore, so, dancing should be interesting. But he could do it. He really liked dancing, actually, another reason he’d been pretty excited for tonight. Even if he’d been told he was kind of a goofy dancer, whatever. Wasn’t what mattered, just that he liked it.

“Bleachers was on the checklist?” He asked, eyes shining with amusement as he licked his lips. “Is there such a thing as virginal-dancing-Billy? Maybe not give-Mrs-Perkinson-a-heart-attack-Billy. Maybe somewhere in between.” Steve perched his chin atop Billy’s shoulder, snaking his arm around to grab at Billy’s ass against the bleacher. Grinning real cutesy. “You do have a hot ass though.” 

***

Billy hummed in agreement, pressing back into Steve’s hand before settling, arms winding around Steve’s waist again. Steve might not have known that the list was very, very real so he threw all ideas of embarrassment out of the window. Nothing like getting your ego stroked to make you feel better. 

“Mhm—bleachers, Beamer, Camaro, beach, camping, showers,” he said, ticking them off behind Steve’s back, his voice light but not teasing. “The list is extensive and you will never find it. Okay, but there was this one, it was my favorite one after I first saw you. Steve Harrington in the Hawkins Police Department, good god. That one was satisfying for a while. The uniform, can you imagine your dick in those pants?”

***

Jesus he didn’t know the list was actually physically real. Like written down in a notebook? He’d have to remember that. He actually did want to find it. He perked up a little, nosing against Billy’s throat with a smile.

“So like real real. Like a book? A journal? Does it have Mr. Billy Harrington written on it with hearts?” He smiled in a gently teasing voice, licking at Billy’s neck. “I wanna read it.” 

His eyebrows jumped at the revelation about the cop fantasy, he hadn’t really seen that one coming. All the same, Steve preened a little under the compliments about his dick.

“Really?” He breathed against Billy’s skin. “I…I can’t imagine wearing a uniform like that. I don’t think I’d ever have a job with a uniform. Me, a cop? I dunno if we’ll manage that one.” 

***

“No it does not,” Billy said sternly, though he was thinking yes it absolutely does the whole way through, distracted by Steve’s tongue enough to make him shiver pleasantly. “You will never read it, I will make it my life’s work to make sure you never do. Oh, you’d make a great cop. You’re very bossy.”

He pulled back to look at Steve again with his tongue between his teeth, thinking about exactly how true that statement was. How cute Steve looked when he was squawking worriedly at Billy about something as small as trying to grab his shoes when his ribs had started to heal. He knew Steve could be a little...spazzy, but it always had some wholehearted doting edge to it. Billy guessed that’s what love felt like. 

***

“I’m totally not bossy,” Steve harrumphed, giving a little mock scowl and pulling away, glancing over his shoulder at Billy fondly. “Dunno what you’re talking about.” 

He reached for his hand, wrapping their pinky fingers together and started to stand – pulling Billy along with him. Ignoring the smart of his ass, like a sharp ache deep down. He used his other hand to straighten out his cerulean cummerbund, the tilt of his bowtie, and then soothed his palm over the slope of his hair. 

He wasn’t exactly going to root through Billy’s things looking for some journal – well, if that’s what it even was (those things were personal) – but he suspected that ‘No it does not’ was a lie, and it made his stomach warm with something foreign yet familiar at the same time. It felt like how Steve had said the word ‘years’ and ‘any time’ and meant it. It felt like that. Felt like Billy’s name with Steve’s last name tacked on, instead of his bastard father’s, and that…that felt good. Even if it wasn’t possible. But they were talking about fantasies, and maybe that could be one of Steve’s. Even if he’d never say it. The words had felt good on his tongue, even if he’d been teasing. Like they belonged. But no need getting ahead of himself for something that wasn’t even legal.

***

Billy followed Steve with a ditzy look on his face, love drunk and sated and happy. It lasted even when they got back to the gym, some Psychedelic Furs song blasting through the speakers, the bass thudding in his chest. When he looked at the balloons now it didn’t seem sad, just one big room full of Steve’s breath, the idea almost intoxicating. 

He tugged at Steve once they’d gotten toward the middle of the dance floor, all of the eyes glancing or staring at them completely fading away once he got to look at Steve’s face under the lights. It drew him close like a moth to a flame, his arms coming up around Steve’s shoulders and their chests meeting. 

“Pinky promise not to make any chaperones faint,” he said with mock seriousness, starting to sway once he found the beat, a grin breaking out across his face. “But I can’t promise chaste dancing. Not that kinda girl, I’m afraid.”

***

Steve fucking loved The Psychedelic Furs, though he was a little sad that the live band had already finished up their wrap and it had changed over to the DJ. The song was ‘Heaven,’ their new single that came out last year that Steve really liked. Steve grinned as they bumped chest to chest, his arms furling around Billy’s wide waist – no real taper to it to be found. The perfect width from sternum to treasure trail. Steve liked how sturdy he felt in his arms. 

The stares from before Billy’d shown up glanced off of him now, like raindrops, and Billy was his rain jacket. Keeping them at bay, until they couldn’t touch Steve anymore. He couldn’t even feel them now. 

They swayed to the rhythm there surrounded by their classmates, in their own little bubble of space. Just enough inches between their hips that it wasn’t too sinful. 

“What? No virginial dancing billy?” Steve’s nose wrinkled with silent laughter. 

***

“That was a false offer so you could see that I usually operate on the further end of that spectrum,” Billy said with a feline smile, pouting when Steve’s hips moved at a school appropriate distance. “Do you really want to watch this borderline see through outfit dance virginally?”

He stepped back a foot to let Steve get a full look at him under the lights, the way they hit his shirt and made it as thin as a spider’s web. He’d been lucky when he’d gotten the pants because white cotton and him wearing no underwear as a general rule could’ve been disastrous. He’d still worn his Doc Martens though, the combination of them and the sparkly earrings making him feel precisely himself in every way. 

***

Steve’s gaze swept over Billy in appreciation , the way he moved under the swing of the lights, and shook his head – because no, no he really didn’t. He wanted to see it do anything but that. Steve gave a little smirk and slid his Ray-Ban’s out of his breast pocket by his handkerchief – which thankfully hadn’t gotten totally crushed, since Billy’d set his jacket aside on the bleachers. Smart. 

He slid them over the bridge of his nose and the tops of his ears, and started to rock his body to the music, shoulders swinging, getting a real bop going to ‘Heaven,’ head bouncing along to the beat. Smiling at Billy like he was the only one on the whole dance floor, like there was nobody else there, like they were invisible on the dance floor together and it all rotated around them. Around Billy, specifically. He even did a cute little spin on the toes of his dance shoes, arms at his sides, elbows out - the hem of his jacket twirling with him. Then he slid back over to Billy like he was Tom Cruise in Risky Business. 

***

Billy smiled back at Steve, trying to peer at him past the glasses. They looked so good on Steve that it didn’t matter really, just made him feel sort of proud of how fucking hot his boyfriend was, his first ever real boyfriend who he got to dance with at prom. Their bodies floated in and out of each other’s zones but never too far, Billy doing some Molly Ringwald-esque moves him and Max had practiced for years, head thrown back as he cackled at himself. 

When Tears for Fears came on he moved closer, making Steve twirl him until Steve’s chest was up against his back. He rolled his hips back and tried to keep it just on this side of appropriate, tilting his head so Steve could see his neck, smiling saccharine sweet at Carol in the distance. 

***

Steve chuckled, warm and sweet, against the back of Billy’s neck, wrapping his arms around his waist as he leaned in close. His hair bobbing with each bounce of his head, smiling into Billy’s shoulder, chin tucked down. The music was hitting all of his feel good buttons tonight. He really wasn’t paying attention to anyone else, Carol, Tommy, or otherwise. 

He couldn’t really afford to let his attention drift to anything bad after earlier – if he did, he’d start to remember why he’d been wallowing in the first place, and he just wanted to try and make up for lost time at this point. Some really good make up sex had gotten him here, and dammit he wasn’t gonna waste that. Steve was good at pretending, and pretending that everything was good now? That was easy. Because it mostly felt okay now. Even if he might be giving Billy shit about it in the future.

He spun with Billy in place, arms looped tight around his middle from behind, laughing and burying his face into the softness of Billy’s hair, before he grasped for his hand and swung him out wide before drawing him back in, close, arm around his waist. Grasping for his other hand and rotating them around the dance floor. He loved seeing Billy like this - compared to earlier. Loose and easy and cackling and bright eyed and not giving a shit. It reminded him of the Billy on this same gym floor, months ago, show dogging and having fun and, well, trying to show Steve who the new king was. 

***

Billy closed his eyes for a second, letting Steve whirl him around and bring him back, trusting that nothing was going to happen. Nothing bad would happen because it was him and Steve. They loved each other enough to put the rest of the world into the background, just two people moving together under stage lighting, kicking away balloons. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” he said over his shoulder, setting a hand on the forearm across his stomach. It was a comforting weight there, all residual panic moved far out of his mind. 

Simple Minds came on but couples were moving slower, or at least they were the few times he bothered to open his eyes. The sway of their bodies made his earrings jingle in his ears, a pleased and closed lipped smile on his face. Happy. 

***

Steve tightened his arms around Billy’s waist as they slowed to a sway, sort of shuffling in place – his chest against Billy’s back. Their height difference allowed him to keep his head down, breathing close to Billy’s ear, where his new birthday earring – all gold and diamond – caught the flashing lights in the dark. 

Billy’s words, so clear and honest and straightforward – not just I Love you, or love you, but everything combined – even with his name – it steadied Steve in a way he couldn’t describe. Grounded him. There was no pretense or falsehood about it. There was no bullshit there. It was real, and true, and it was everything to him – Billy’s love. It made him want to give him the world in any way that he could.

He liked this song – he’d seen Breakfast Club at The Hawk about two months ago with Nancy and Jonathan, and it really reminded him of it a lot. He hummed low in Billy’s ear with the lyrics in the back of his throat, before murmuring, “ I Love you, Billy Hargrove. Love you more than anything.” 

***

Dancing with Steve was a million times better than Billy ever thought it would be. They twirled and swayed and it was fucking perfect, eyes on them that they didn’t pay any mind. His jealousy and his worry didn’t register, just Steve’s hands on him, that kind smile on his face. Like Billy had done something good, helped somehow, smoothed over his mistake. 

He separated from Steve a little reluctantly in the parking lot, tugging him in by his jacket for a goodbye-for-now kiss, one he got to give Steve in the safety of the dark right on school grounds. The drive to the diner was quick, made quicker by some sort of urgency, one that had him getting there a good minute or two before Steve. He told himself he wasn’t embarrassed to be bouncing on his heels in front of the Camaro, visions of Steve’s name with hearts drawn around it in his head. Definitely not embarrassing. 

***

The rest of the night at the dance had felt like some sort of exciting dance montage out of a movie, and Steve was excited and sated to have been a part of it – no longer sitting on the sidelines, no longer benched but a part of the game. Where he’d wanted to be. 

He could still taste Billy’s mouth, like Marlboro Reds and mint, when he pulled into the parking space in front of the diner. His bowtie was undone at this point, hanging loose around his collar, with a few buttons hanging open at his throat for air. He slid out of the Beamer, immediately zeroing in on Billy at the trunk of the Camaro. Steve waved and headed towards him, hands in his pockets. 

“Ready for milkshakes?” He asked. “Or are you getting hungry yet?” He liked to make sure that Billy ate when he needed to – and he wasn’t sure if he’d eaten dinner earlier, since he’d been upset. And it was already past midnight.

***

“Mm, I guess I could eat,” Billy said with a shrug of his shoulder, slipping out of his jacket and throwing it over his arm. “After you, handsome.”

He might’ve been trailing behind Steve just to watch him walk in, those long legs encased in blue, his hair styled perfect and a little mussed from dancing. He might’ve, but it wasn’t like anyone could prove it. A booth in the back was calling his name and apparently Steve’s too, had him sliding in across from the boy in front of him with a small smile. 

“You wanna split a burger with me?” he asked, propping his elbow up on the vinyl, chin in his hand and eyes full of hearts. 

***

Steve took off his baby blue jacket, folding it over the back of the booth as they sat down, and rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows almost as an afterthought.  
“That’s good, ‘cause I’m starving. A burger sounds amazing. And fries. Lots of fries.”  
He was feeling all glowy and good, with Billy calling him handsome and staring at him like he’d hung the moon or something. Had him blushing from beneath his undone collar, and returning the look right back. 

The waitress that usually served Steve when he showed up at wild hours at the diner when he didn’t want to cook for himself, or felt lonely at odd hours – mostly from before he’d started dating Billy, really, sidled up to the booth. Alice. Cracking some gum, with her permed hair all shoved up into a crazy bun. 

“Hiya boys.” She grinned, winking at them. “All dressed up I see. What can I do ya for?” 

“Hey! Ah yeah, can we get a couple milkshakes and – “ He glanced at Billy, eyebrows raised like question marks – what kind of burger? “Burger?”

“What flavor shakes?” 

“Strawberry for me, please, and – “ he tilted his head a little at Billy, to make sure it was okay, “Vanilla?” 

***

“Mhm, vanilla please,” Billy said, batting his eyelashes at Alice and nodding at Steve, sugary sweet smile on his face. “Cheeseburger too, medium well, please. Thank you.”

He watched the waitress saunter away and turned his attention back to Steve, kicking at him under the table. Normally he would’ve slipped his foot out of his boot and trailed it up Steve’s shin, made a home between his legs just to see what kind of reaction he might get. Tonight, after that bad assumption when he’d tried to dance, he didn’t push his luck. Just a gentle kick and then it was gone, little smile back on his face. 

***

Steve smirked – he figured Billy was far enough out of the doghouse at this point, so he searched out Billy’s boot again to tangle their ankles together, docker to boot leather. He rest his cheek on his hand, elbow on the table, since he was getting a little tired – feeling a little wrung out from cycling through too many emotions over the course of the evening. Like a spent sponge. 

“Thank you. For coming tonight.” He said, a serious note to his tone, after a moment of contemplation over the night - considering both highs and lows. About an even balance of both, he guessed, at this point. 

***

Billy’s smile got just a bit thinner, tinged with regret and cinched with a shake of his foot on Steve’s. He nodded back just as seriously because—well, it was, very. What happened tonight wasn’t something he would forget soon if ever, the image of Steve crying burnt into his memory. 

“Don’t have to say thanks,” he said with a shake of his head, fiddling with the fork to his right, looking back up at Steve after a moment. “Would you want some company tonight?”

***

“No, I mean it.” Steve said, his eyes large and dark, earnest as they could get. “It really means a lot to me. I mean I know you were, you know, and just. Thanks.” You know meaning upset, scared. The edges of Steve’s lips curled up at the edges, soft and warm and the complete opposite of his look from earlier. More like his normal happy go lucky self. “And yeah - wanna have a sleepover?” He asked with a suggestive tone, leaning back in the booth a bit. Jangling their ankles a little.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight, after you got there. I can’t believe somebody didn’t spike the punch, though. It’s a crying shame, really. God and the look on Tommy’s face when you flipped him the bird.” Steve laughed a little, glancing to their silverware, drumming his fingers on the surface of the vinyl top table to the beat of Madonna playing low on the speakers. “That was pretty weird that he came over and asked that, before I mean.” He frowned a little at the table. “I don’t know why I said that to him”

***

Billy wiggled his shoulders at the suggestion, laughing at Steve’s tone, something shaking loose in him. He could see Alice on her way with a tray in her hand, a little distracted by it. He knew he smiled at the comment about him flipping Tommy off but then it seemed to freeze, his response stalled while Alice dropped their food off. The smile stayed until she turned around and suddenly he wasn’t hungry, not for a minute anyway. 

“Yeah, not that weird though. Still wants you,” he said, grabbing the burger and taking a bite. A bite large enough that he couldn’t orally respond when Steve said he didn’t know why he’d said sorry. All he could do, all he felt like doing in order to keep the waters smooth, was shrug and act engrossed in the meal. 

***

Steve waved a fry at him like a wagging finger, dipped it in his milkshake, then popped it in his mouth, shaking his head.

“No, no that’s not it.” He was still frowning a little, brow furrowed. 

But he knew he was treading on dangerous territory with Billy about Tommy, and he didn’t actually think there was any way to resolve that. He saw the look on Billy’s face, saw him tense, saw him freeze. 

No, he knew there wasn’t a way. Not anymore, not after the photo, and not after the closet – pushed into it by Carol or not, Tommy’d still done it. He was still a fucking asshole, and it was still Steve’s freaking problem. But at the same time, despite a couple years of not talking, of not being friends, it felt like this long drawn out fight – one that Steve had instigated. Over Nancy. Then she’d dropped him like a sack of potatoes, so, you know. That was great. 

And then Tommy’d practically re-broken Steve’s nose during basketball and kind of beat the shit out of him. But Steve knew how mean he’d been to Tommy in 7th grade, only for him to turn around and date a guy a few years down the road. And maybe he sort of had that coming. And Billy couldn’t be mad about that part of it– not really. He’d beat Steve up worse than that only months ago. Who hadn’t had a fuckin’ go? Jonathan? Steve needed to really up his game, he figured. How could he destroy some stupid demodogs but couldn’t hold up in a fistfight? 

The point that had struck with Steve at the dance was that even with all of the bullshit and fighting and petty , petty moves...well, Tommy’d still come over and made sure he was okay. Even if Steve was just being a drama queen. And just for a heartbeat, a breath, it was like no time had passed and nothing had happened and Tommy still had his back. No matter what. Like they were seven again and Steve hit a homer through Old Man Humphrey’s kitchen window, and Tommy’d said it was him - ‘cause he knew how Steve’s dad was.

“That was just, 7th grade bullshit. When holding hands in the halls was a big deal. It’s not that.” He didn’t think. Tommy had Carol. They fucked on the regular. Steve’d entertained it was a possibility, jealousy, before – but he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know what it was. “That’s seriously ancient history. I feel like...like maybe part of these last few weeks, it’s my fault. Like I instigated it. I drew first blood. ” Jesus he’d been hanging out with the party too much.

***

“Do you really think that outing you is equal retaliation?” Billy said, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice. What about my locker? My car? Basketball? Those were things he didn’t say, so maybe it was the best he could do. “Potentially life ruining shit over what—high school drama?”

Except he was still thinking them, setting his pack of cigarettes down on the vinyl and pulling one out in lieu of taking another bite. He looked elsewhere as he lit it, remembering Steve using the word intense to describe him in the beginning of everything. Ever since the mall he’d felt diminished, less angry, with the latter being a good thing. He knew that, but he knew there was a lot left over, maybe things that he’d always have lodged in there. 

***

“No, no it’s not that. It’s not equal at all.” Steve frowned down at his half of the burger – still working on the fries. Giving them a dip in the strawberry Jacuzzi before he ate them. All sugar and salt. “It’s all fucked. All of it. There’s no – no excuse. And you never should have been dragged into any of it. Never. Especially after what, what happened…I just, for a second I - ” 

He sighed and shook his head, like he was shooing away a flying insect. 

“Nevermind, nevermind. It’s really dumb. They’re assholes. I know that. It is life ruining shit. Screw them.” He stuffed more fries in his mouth, gaze drifting up towards Billy’s intense one. He reached over to slide the cheap, chipped yellow glass ashtray away from the wall so it was between them. Bringing it in reach. “It was just weird. That’s all.” Just for that second.

***

“If it means anything, I can pinky promise not to pulverize him our last week,” Billy offered, taking another drag and flicking the cigarette into the tray, jiggling Steve’s foot like a thank you. “I know he’s your—was your friend. It’s not like I’m going to tell you who you can be friends with. I just don’t think it would be a good idea for us to be in the same room again.”

That was as lightly as Billy could really put it. He was fully aware of what he was capable of, pretty much everyone on the face of the earth was. One of those things still lodged in, the kind of thing that might take a lifetime to wade through. Even if he was supposed to be a good person now, or try and be one, that one stuck. Especially when he pictured Tommy holding a camera or the scratches on his favorite material possession he still couldn’t get fixed. 

“Plus, think if I saw a guy making you cry I’d find my way over too,” he said, exhaling out of the side of his mouth, spreading out more languidly in his side of the booth. “But it turned out okay, right? Didn’t it?”

***

“I don’t think I want to be friends with him again. I just don’t think I want school to end forever with all of this bullshit, either.” All of this back and forth bullshit. Steve lifted his shoe up onto the toe of his polished docker, rubbing the sides of their calves together.

He pushed some fries towards Billy to urge him to eat more, before he started on his burger. Sipping at his shake through the straw this time like a civilized human being. 

“And yeah. I think so. I mean I’d say not to let it happen again, but…” Steve joked, but the joke fell a little flat. Because there wasn’t an ‘again.’ Just tonight. But well, he guessed that was the punchline.

“You know, you helped it. It’s fine. I had a good time with you. Maybe we can go dancing again – like that night in Chicago. I think I liked that better, actually.” Because there, the only stares had been appreciative, or interested, not borderline disgusted or highly concerned. 

Where Billy had glitter in his hair and Steve could touch as much as he wanted. 

“Something I really wanted to do tonight was to actually…replace that picture. Get a good polaroid of us.” He gave a little shrug. They hadn’t quite managed that either. “Don’t think we actually have any other pictures together.” Besides that one, and it was cursed. Even if Steve liked how soft Billy looked in it, it was forever ruined due to context.

***

Billy smiled that thin smile again. Yeah, no such thing as a next time. He’d soured a good chunk of a memory that would only happen one time in their lives. Not a feeling he was going to shake very easily. 

“Well, have you got one?” he asked, setting the cigarette in the ashtray to take a few fries reluctantly, dipping them in the shake before inhaling them. Whatever joke he’d wanted to play with the vanilla milkshake felt...off now. All of it felt off, even if he was happy, even if they still loved each other. “I know Susan would have a conniption if we let her take some. I know it’s late though, so those long arms of yours might have to do.”

***

Steve shook his head. “No, didn’t bring it – Max had told me that your step-mom had one and ‘planned on using it,’ so I didn’t really think about it.”

Steve hated that feeling after a fight. And he felt like this had been a pretty bad fight, considering it was their first – perhaps that’s what made it feel so wrong. Like everything was off balance. Steve’s usual gut reaction was to buy flowers and make it better, but damn, this time it really wasn’t his fault he didn’t think. But then again, he’d done that before, when he didn’t even have anything to be sorry for. 

He chewed on his lip and bounced his foot a little against Billy’s where their ankles crossed. He blinked slowly, looking up at Billy. Definitely getting drowsy. They’d both had finals for the last three days and it was catching up with him. His brain felt like it was lagging behind. 

“Like take it ourselves? We…could try that. I have it at the house. But I mean, we don’t…” Steve gestured a little towards his own undone bowtie, his dance crazed hair. They weren’t all gussied up anymore. But maybe that was okay. 

***

“Still look perfect,” Billy said reassuringly, smiling crookedly out of one corner of his mouth. Something sad was twisting in his gut and making a home there, wondering what the pictures would’ve looked like at the trailer. It wasn’t going to happen, not ever. “I—can we get the rest of it to go? Maybe just go wind down? You look wiped.”

Truth be told, he was too, but not in the way that made him feel like sleeping. They were emotions he wasn’t sure what to do about other than try and stow them away for later, try not to ignore them but just—not now. To his credit he didn’t say if you still want me over, remembering the last time, that it hadn’t gone super well. He watch Steve call the waitress over and wished they’d been in one car, tried to drum up a list of things he could do tonight to help Steve relax, help him sleep. 

***

Steve laughed, his eyes bright, but his tone a little off – at looking perfect. He felt a little like hot garbage, but, he appreciated the sentiment. He felt puffy eyed with bad hair and a rumpled shirt with, he was pretty sure, a stripe of dirt up the back – but that was definitely from a very good part of the night, so it’s not like he minded. “I dunno about perfect. But…I dunno. Maybe when we get back, huh? Yeah I’m – I’m seriously really tired. All of a sudden.”

Once he got Alice paid and tipped well for the late hour, they both headed out in their separate cars. Steve felt bumbly at the wheel, and it probably wasn’t the smartest. But he made it there in one piece. Billy beat him – of course he did, he tore ass everywhere – but Steve still had to get the door open. 

With the house opened up and Steve flicking on lights left and right, he tossed his suit jacket over the end of the couch. Rubbing his face – he wanted to rinse it from crying earlier. Or really a shower sounded amazing. He turned towards Billy, padding towards him in his pristine white socks and dress pants. Automatically reaching for him.

***

Billy watched Steve move closer and toed his boots off at the door, hanging the jacket up on the rack, trying to stall for reasons he didn’t know. When Steve got close enough he reached out tentatively for a hand, figuring it was fine since Steve was reaching too. He didn’t say anything, just pulled them both up the stairs, flicking the foyer and hallway lights on as they went. 

“Here,” he said softly, easing Steve through the bathroom door and urging him to sit down on the closed toilet seat. “Here, I can do it.”

He sat down with his legs crossed, fucking wiped himself, and got to work. His hands moved nice and slow, easing the cummerbund off and sliding Steve’s socks and bow tie to the tile. He started at the top buttons of the nice, crisp shirt, wishing he’d been able to appreciate it at the very beginning of the night. He’d meant it at the diner though, still perfect. 

***

Steve’s head rocked back a little on his neck, feeling loose, letting Billy slowly undress him. There was a soft sort of intimacy about it, even if they weren’t saying much. After that fight, there had been sex, then there had been dancing, and there hadn’t been space or time for words. Not really. Then at the diner, it felt more forced, because they were eating – and you couldn’t just eat in silence. But here, in the safe space of Steve’s house with all the lights on in the wee hours of the morning, there was a sullen sort of acceptance to the silence. Like maybe they just didn’t need to fill up the spaces with words after that short lived, but vibrant fight. Their first one that wasn’t in the Byers’ living room, and this hadn’t been fists.

Steve still remembered the spikes set up on his skin, keeping Billy away, and that had never happened to them before. There’d never been a cause. Hell, Steve really only remembered feeling like that a few times in his life. The last time he’d been in Tracy’s bathroom, and Nancy’d spilled punch on herself. Then the next day, at practice, then a little too. But since then, no, no spikes against anyone he loved. But he still felt like he had holes in his skin, too brittle and too open from the gaps, and he wanted to sleep. He knew in the morning, the dark spots would be gone, or at least mostly faded. 

He was silent as he let Billy slide away the bowtie, his socks, unbuttoning each pearl button. He wondered at the intimacy of it, even when sex wasn't involved. It wasn’t rushed, and Billy took his time. Like he was paying attention to details. Steve let him.

Steve only lifted a hand to gently run the pads of two fingers under the dangle of Billy’s earring, letting it glide across them before he let it drop again. Sent it sparkling in the dull fluorescent light. Shivering a little as he was shrugged out of his shirt.

***

Billy closed his eyes when he felt a touch to his ear, a bare and fleeting little thing. He made himself open them again because it wasn’t really the time, it was time for quiet, for Steve. He eased up out of his sitting position to have Steve stand, undoing his dress pants and having him step out of them with the help of two gingerly touching hands on his arms, then did the same with his Calvin’s. 

“One sec,” he said, barely above a whisper as he eased the shower open, flicking the hot water on. Steve always liked it to be hot, here or in his room or in the whole house. When it got to where he thought Steve would approve he moved it all the way, stepping back a foot to let Steve inside. “There you go.”

***

Steve didn’t step foot inside the shower – instead, he stepped up behind Billy, arms snaking around his middle to start on the button and zipper of his high waist, crisp white pants. Sliding the zipper down, before he looped his fingers back to the edges of the waistband to start easing them down Billy’s hips. He bent his neck to press his forehead against the back of Billy’s curls, smelling faintly of hairspray, before he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown there. 

“Thanks, baby.” Steve murmured into Billy’s hair, steam already starting to build in the air. Softening, muting his words. “Your turn.”

Then he was turning Billy around once he got the pants low enough for him to step out of. He slid two large hands up along Billy’s waist, snagging at his incredibly see-through white tee to start ruching it up with the gaps of his thumbs. Sturdy fingers sliding over the bumps of Billy’s ribcage to start easing the shirt up, as if to urge Billy to put his arms up over his head.

***

Billy was surprised when Steve came up behind him, to say the very least. It felt like the longer that time passed the easier it became to replay the fight, every wrong little move and every wrong word coming out of him despite himself. Still, he let Steve undress him, lifting his arms and wondering if Steve could see that the bruises were gone by now. He watched Steve move into the shower and knew he should do, steeled himself and closed the shower door behind them. 

There still didn’t seem like any reason for him to talk, not enough time passed for more apologies. Instead he eased Steve back into the spray, wetting his hair and working that sweet smelling bougie shampoo into it with care. He could feel Steve’s hair getting softer under his fingers, more like the hair he saw when they would wake up together, wild and thick and as dark as chocolate. He tipped Steve’s head back again to rinse, eyes flicking over his face for any sudden movements. Just to be sure. 

***

Steve shivered again, goosebumps rising despite the heat, at the blunt scrape of Billy’s nails against his scalp. Smoothing his hair out from the Elvis pompadour into something more manageable, workable beneath Billy’s hands. He loved Billy’s hands in his hair. It did something to him, those large, steady, squared off hands. So he let him tilt his head back, expose Steve’s throat, stepping back into the spray again. Eyes closed, lashes forming dark crescents over his cheeks, catching bit of water in them. 

As the Faberge suds ran away down the drain, Steve’s eyes slipped open again. He reached for the bar of soap on the shower shelf, and a washcloth. He lathered them up together really well under the hit of the spray. It smelled like Sandalwood from Paris, and he leaned in to start scrubbing the washcloth over Billy. 

Starting at his chest, gliding over each pec, the pink of his nipples, the broad band of his shoulders. Lifting Billy’s golden hair off his shoulders to get underneath, at the soft skin of his neck, his throat. Then going lower. Paying special attention to his belly and the hard muscles of his abs, the lines of his obliques. It was like sudsing up a Greek statue of Heracles, standing there with him in his shower, absolute perfection. But with the soft, human curves of the boy he loved. He was only human. Human’s made mistakes. Steve knew that. It’s not like Billy had done something malicious on purpose. 

Huffing through his nose, Steve leaned in to press a kiss into the line of Billy’s collarbone while the washcloth dipped around to his back, running up the bumps of his spine, between his shoulder blades. While Steve left a bright, purple mark at the bow of Billy’s collarbone. 

Letting the hot water and soap suds rinse the night away. 

He lowered himself to his knees then on the expensive tiles. Scrubbing the cloth over Billy’s thighs, the fine layer of hair there, up his shins and down the backs of his calves. The tops of his feet, the lines of tendons, with a gentle touch. Meanwhile, pressing another kiss, sucking another mark, into the soft dip of Billy’s hip – just to the left of his cock. 

***

Billy didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, all of the attentive touches and sweeps over his skin. The urge to question it got a little smaller when he felt a pleasant sting on his collar bone, his shoulders smoothing out. It disappeared completely at the pressure of Steve’s lips and tongue on his hip, a shudder running through him as he looked down. 

The bathroom was bright as usual but everything felt soft around the edges, like the quiet had done something to both of them. Let the tension lift for a moment, just Steve cleaning him off, paying attention to every inch of him. It made him blush but in a way that he didn’t mind, didn’t mind if Steve saw either. 

He ran his fingertips over the top of Steve’s head, a silent version of sweetheart. 

***

Steve ran the tip of his nose over the marked skin when he’d finished, continuing to sweep the Egyptian cotton washcloth over the globes of Billy’s ass, forehead pressed against the edge of his stomach. Breathing in the scent of sandalwood, and the natural scent of Billy’s skin that the heat from the shower released. Tipping a little into that touch at his head.

Then he reached up with his free hand to coax Billy down with him, down onto wet tiles, slick with soap. He settled Billy into his lap, long, lanky arms wrapping around the blonde like a koala. Steve was still grasping the washcloth tight behind Billy’s back, arms around his shoulders. Hugging him close as he brought their foreheads together, sighing. Tension leaving his body.

Their heads were just a little outside of the spray of water, which was only high enough to hit Steve’s back - his eyes closed and breathing in syrupy sweet steam, letting everything go fuzzy. He was tired but he didn’t want to go to bed with things weird, either. Letting the water and suds wash everything away from the night, like old forgotten aches. 

“Love you.” He murmured, voice muted under the sound of the spray. 

***

“Love you,” Billy said back softly, though it sounded a whole lot like I’m so sorry. 

He splayed his thighs out wide across Steve’s lap, his arms winding around Steve’s shoulders, one hand holding the other wrist at the back of Steve’s neck. His curls were sticking to his face but he didn’t want to move them, didn’t want to move an inch. It felt good, like Steve was extended something kind to him despite how the night had started and it made his chest tight, impossibly tight. 

***

“M’ mom says I’m a drama queen sometimes.” Steve gave a little smile, the words small in the enclosed space of the shower. He said it like his own kind of sorry. Sorry for getting worked up. Sorry for making it worse. He lifted both hands to gently start smoothing away the wet ringlets clinging to Billy’s face, all careful and detailed in their work. Leaning back just enough to get a better view. 

He grabbed the bottle of shampoo that Billy’d set aside on the bench, and started to work some into Billy’s hair. Scrubbing against his scalp, lathering up, banishing any remnants of hairspray. He was tilting his head back so it wouldn’t get in those perfect eyes, and holding him securely in his lap so he wouldn’t slip. Idly pressing kisses to Billy’s throat as he gave him a salon grade shampoo, all Faberge Organics and the King Steve Treatment. 

***

“Shirley Temple curls,” Billy warned, using his most serious tone. Still he did nothing to stop it, just hummed at the massage to his scalp and let his eyes drift closed. 

The hand at his back was a comforting weight, just like Steve’s legs underneath his own and his chest brushing against him. He still didn’t feel like he deserved it but he didn’t feel like opposing it either, content to stay in Steve’s lap like an overgrown cat, tempted to curl forward in the embrace.

***

“My favorite kind.” Steve let out a low hum of appreciation, then helped Billy rinse, leaned back into the spray. Careful to keep it out of his eyes. Steve forewent the conditioner even if it felt like some kind of heresy. 

“Mmh. Ready for bed, babe?” Steve asked, furling himself around Billy as the water dripped from their lashes, from the ends of their hair, and the tips of their noses. Placing his chin atop Billy’s head and drawing him closer in a hug. His own big, overgrown house cat.

***

Billy nodded and hummed mhm in a way he knew Steve could feel against his neck but made no moves to get out of Steve’s lap. If anything he curled into the hug further, dipping his head down, making himself smaller even if there wasn’t much of a chance of that. He’d spent so much of his life trying to get bigger and stronger that it made the rare moments when he didn’t want to be hard to come by. Not so terribly rare now, though, with Steve. 

Finally he heaved a long, put upon sigh and after one more squeeze stood up, helping Steve up with him. There was a short pause for another embrace after he shut the shower off but the air was cold in comparison now, had him shivering a bit while he handed Steve a towel. He sighed again as he twisted his hair into his towel turban, bone fucking tired. 

“Bed.”

***

“Bed.”Steve agreed, and shivered a little too – he hated being cold – and quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist – his hair sticking up all mad around his head from attacking it with the towel. He snagged their pinkies together and led Billy to the bed, sneaking beneath the covers and the sheets and peeling them back for Billy to slide in too. Totally buck ass naked, probably the best way to sleep really, he figured – patting at the mattress and yawning wide. He stuffed his face into the pillow, squirming to try and get comfortable. 

“Night, beautiful.” Steve murmured into his pillow, arm blindly searching for Billy to wrap around his chest. 

***

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Billy whispered, easing onto his back and pulling Steve in close by the arm reaching out for him. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come, listening to the sounds of Steve’s breathing slowly evening out, the tiniest snore every now and then. 

Sleep came but not for very long, the clock blinking 2:30 at him when he finally opened his eyes. His chest still felt tight but in a different way this time, a way that had him very slowly extricating himself from Steve’s hold. He tiptoed to the dresser and slipped on a sweatshirt and sweatpants, stealing a pair of Steve’s socks to move even more quietly downstairs. 

When he got out to the pool he smacked his pack of cigarettes down next to him but didn’t light one right away, staring across the empty space of it and into the woods. That tight feeling was guilt, painful enough to make his eyes well up, swallowing hard to try and keep any sounds at bay. The image of Steve uncomfortable at his touch, crying because of him, saying sorry to Tommy, telling him nothing bad even happened and it was true. Just him. 

***

Steve twitched awake. Like something woke him up. There was a damp spot on the sheet under his cheek where he’d been sure it was resting on top of Billy’s chest just a second ago. He blinked groggily at the red digital lights of the clock on the nightstand, wiping at his mouth. He was alone in the bed. He twisted around in the sheets, looking around like Billy might be lurking just out of sight – the bathroom light was still on, just like Steve’d left it. A necessary nightlight. But it was quiet, empty.

“Babe?” He called. No reply. Something crept up his spine, a sense of foreboding. Steve frowned. He wouldn’t have left…right? Not without telling him. He didn’t have some big bad monster at home he had to be at home before a certain time for. Not anymore.

Steve slid out of the bed, holding the sheet around him like a cape, dragging it with him as he wandered groggily toward the door. But he paused next to the window – one that he usually kept the plaid curtains cracked…just in case. He froze, eyes growing round as chocolate coins, before he dropped the bedsheet. He haphazardly hopped, half tripping, into a pair of random boxers out of his top drawer before he was practically running, falling, down the stairs. Nearly eating shit. His heart in his throat. 

He scrambled for the sliding glass doors off of the sunroom with the thick blinds he always kept tightly closed, even during the daytime. He smacked at them, trying to push them out of his face, before he got at the sliding glass door, staggering out onto the back patio. 

The temperature had dropped this late, or this early, and his breath fogged before him – nipples peaked at the cold and goosebumps swathing over his skin as he tried his best not to run like a crazy person and sort of power walked toward the lip of the pool – where Billy had his feet hanging in. Jesus help him. 

“Billy – Billy – “ Steve said, a begging sort of tone to his voice. Reaching out with a desperation to try and pull at his shoulders, pull him away from that cursed place. Get his goddamn feet out of it being his top priority. Empty or not.

“C’mon, c’mon – I – what’re you doing? It – it’s dangerous out here –“ His heart was hammering in his throat and he couldn’t swallow it down, and he knew he was making crazy eyes, gaze flicking up fearfully, watchfully, at the dark shadows of the forest across the way that lines his property. Breathing fast. He almost fell on his face in his haste to try and pull Billy up, pull him away, bare foot. Didn’t feel the cold, though. 

***

Billy flinched in surprise at the tone of his voice, whipping his head over his shoulder. He frowned with full, wet eyes as he listened to him, let him yank him up from where he’d been sitting. It kind of felt like having ice water dumped on him because nothing Steve was saying made sense and he’d just gotten caught being a—being upset outside for no reason. He leaned down and swiped his cigarettes before he could be dragged off, stopping Steve about halfway across the lawn. 

“Stop, I’m—what are you talking about?” he said quickly, trying to furrow his eyebrows enough to wipe away any remnants of his previous expression, shoving all of the guilt back down into the cramped space he’d tried keeping it in. “I grew up in neighborhoods a lot worse than Old Cherry, Steve. It’s fine—why’d you come out here in boxers?”

***

Steve let Billy stop him, but he wanted to get on the other side of the glass, click the lock in place. Turn up the heat. His shoulders gave a furious shudder at the thought. He nervously cocked his hands on his hips. staring at Billy all wide eyed – panting through his nose as he seemed to click through several things at once in his mind. He registered Billy had no idea what he was talking about. 

And that Billy – Billy had been crying. Steve blinked in shock, shaking his head a little, as if to clear it, try to clear the blaring alarms that were going off in his mind. But he was having trouble hearing over them, having trouble focusing. He glanced anxiously at the door to their right – just feet away, so close, and bit his lip so hard it hurt before he got his eyes back on Billy. 

“R-raccoons.” He spat suddenly. “Raccoons. There are rabid…raccoons. In Loch Nora They’re really cute but really dangerous if they attack you, you could get really sick and I – “ He blinked, wincing at how fucking stupid he sounded. Babbling. He compulsively reached out a hand to press it against the chest of his own shirt – looked better on Billy, really – and tried to quiet the alarms. 

“What’s wrong? Why’re you crying? Are you okay? P-please come inside. Please. I don’t want to be out here. I don’t want you out here. Please. I - ” He blinked , glancing down at himself, in nothing but boxers. He shrugged helplessly. In an I don’t fucking know? sort of gesture.

***

Billy shook his head, blinking enough times that he was at least mostly sure there weren’t any tears, the corners of his mouth deeply turned down. He tried to shake the feeling like shaking rain off of a coat, tried to zero in on Steve spazzing instead. That at least he could do something about. 

“Alright, okay,” he said calmly, his tone appeasing in a way he hoped didn’t sound patronizing. He gestured for Steve to lead him back inside, looking at his cigarettes with some longing when he set them down. He hadn’t been outside long enough to smoke one or really think and it—was fine. “Let’s get you back to bed, nothing to worry about.”

***

Steve finally felt like he could relax a little once the sliding door clicked shut, and the lock was in place. He glanced out once last time before he swished the blinds back into place, turning his back on the empty pool. He wished it was empty year round. He wished his parents wouldn’t refill it in the spring – the kids had already been bugging him about using it when summer rolled around, even though they’d known what had happened, but – well. 

Steve wondered why he was just more…paranoid than them. They seemed take everything head on like it was just another part of their game. But they knew what death was. And that had happened in Steve’s pool. And it was – Steve’s fault. Nancy’d said it was his fault. Well, she’s said it was ‘theirs,’ but. He knew she’d meant him. If he hadn’t lured her in with his wiles or whatever. 

And what if something happened and somehow some sort of – he didn’t know – crack in time or space or whatever opened up where the portal’d opened before? Sucked Barb in? What if someone else disappeared, even with the demogorgon gone? What if Billy was gone forever? Lost like Will? Steve couldn’t fucking take it. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He rubbed his bare arms and went to the thermostat on the wall of the living room, spun the dial until it was set to ‘are you fucking kidding?’ just the way he liked it. He frowned and turned back to Billy. 

“What? No, I – hey, tell me. What’s wrong? C’mon.” He reached out to tangle their fingers together, tug-boating Billy along into the kitchen. “I’ll make some hot chocolate. You can tell me about it?” Now that they were safe. Indoors. 

***

Billy followed Steve with a twisted up mouth, looking down at their hands and wondering what the fuck had happened. When they got to cupboards he slipped his hand out of Steve’s hold and bit at his thumb, leaning with his spine up against the counter and watching Steve flit about. He’d just wanted a second to—but that was a wrong move, he was fucking chock full of them tonight. 

“Can I just crack a window and smoke out of it?” he asked around his thumb, that jittery feeling running through him, would’ve been making his leg vibrate if he’d been sitting. “I’m—you can have it, the hot chocolate. Are you okay?”

***

“Yeah, yeah go for it.” Steve nodded absently.

He could hear the furnace kicking in. Felt his muscles relax slightly in response. He was heating the milk over the stove, and when it started to bubble like it was getting hot, but not boiling, he poured it into two mugs. His #1 Dad mug, and a Garfield one for Billy. He glanced up at Billy with a little frown between his eyebrows, biting at his lower lip. He hadn’t meant to freak Billy out. He hadn’t meant to freak out in general. He’d totally probably acted like a nutjob and he wasn’t sure how to mend that. Especially after last night, the timing wasn’t – ideal. Billy was probably gonna drop his ass. He probably should.

Steve poured in the hot cocoa packets and stirred them up, then he grabbed the expensive bottle of whiskey from behind the cereal boxes – the one he’d swiped from his dad’s alcohol cabinet, but kept close at hand now. For nights like this. 

He sloshed the whiskey in the large, square bottle with the crystal stopper with his eyebrows lifting up. 

“It’s for both of us.” He said. 

He unstopped the glass, and poured a few fingers of it into the mugs – filling them almost to the brims. 

“Uh…I’m. I’m fine. I’m really sorry I sort of. Freaked out.” He made this pouty little frown down at the mugs and passed Billy the Garfield one. A few happy little marshmallows floating on top, rapidly dissolving. “Raccoons…” he mumbled, looking away like a lie as he sipped at the spiked hot chocolate.

***

“It’s not a big deal, I didn’t mean to make you freak out,” Billy said with a thin smile, taking the mug and a more than healthy chug out of it while he watched Steve avert his eyes. 

He hopped up onto the counter to push the window above the sink open, leaning back over to grab his pack and finally, finally light a fucking cigarette. When he blew smoke out of the window it didn’t exactly look dangerous outside to him, but if it made Steve feel better, well. It was fine. 

“You should probably sleep more, you’ve gotta be exhausted,” he offered, draining his mug and sliding it away from him before taking another drag. All that tension was still coiled up in his chest so hard that it hurt, like heartburn, like picturing lava melting right through him. He rolled his neck out and tried to make the smile stick a little better. “I’m a big boy, you know. I won’t go outside if you don’t want me to, but you don’t have to stay up. You should just relax.”

***

Steve gave him big eyes over the rim of his mug as he sipped at his drink – he was pretty surprised at how fast Billy drained his – it was piping hot. It reminded him, vaguely, of when Billy’d shoved his palm into his hurt eye. Steve winced as he leaned against the opposite edge of the counter that Billy sat on top of, watching him. He tipped his head, because now that his scatterbrain had come back and wasn’t as scattered, he knew something was wrong. Something that wasn’t supernatural. At least he thought so.

“I mean – I am, but it’s Friday. We can sleep in tomorrow as late as we want. Why were you out there? I mean…what’s wrong? Do – do you wanna talk about it? I’m not gonna relax, or sleep, if you’re upset. I love you, remember?” 

***

“I-yeah, but. I don’t know. You can take a day off, you know,” Billy said seriously, taking a drag and reveling in the way it seemed to mellow him out. Realistically he knew that wasn’t it, knew his heart rate was actually up because of it, but the placebo effect worked. “Especially after tonight.”

He regarded Steve, the concern on his face warping his handsome gestures. It was better than the look of panic or any of the other ones he’d seen in the last few hours, barring their time on the bleachers. He tried to recollect it, Steve crying in a good way, the way his lips had said I love you even when nothing came out. 

***

Steve made a little confused face for a second at that, before it registered, before it clicked, visibly, and then his eyebrows slowly started to inch up. Mouth going a little loose at the corners with disbelief. The hot chocolate steaming in front of his face. 

“….what? You mean take a break, what, from loving you?” He laughed softly in disbelief, like he was a little thrown. Because he was. “After tonight?” Steve shook his head. His breath was mostly caught up now, and the whiskey and chocolate had mostly steadied his hands. Taken away the tremble. “I’m not going to ‘take a day off’ from loving you just because we get in a, a – “ fight? Was it a fight? “whatever tonight was. That’s not the way love works.” 

***

Billy sucked in his cheeks and shrugged, his eyes welling up again despite himself. He had a strong urge to press his fists into them but knew how well that would work out from the last few times, not sure what to do with himself otherwise. The thing was, he didn’t know how loved work and it left him feeling embarrassed, out of his element in a way that was more than uncomfortable. 

He didn’t know what to say so he didn’t, just took another drag and looked out the window again. Like the dark outside would do what he’d hoped when he’d been out there. Erase the look on his face or just how clueless he really was when it came to other people or not—fucking up. 

***

Steve was sharp eyed enough, even across the kitchen, to see the glimmer of tears even before Billy turned his head away. Not saying anything back. Steve set his sadly deformed #1 Dad mug down on the counter top, and crossed the kitchen in nothing but his boxers to where Billy was perched on the countertop by the window. Filling his own lungs with cigarette smoke, too. He gently rest the palms of his newly steadied hands on either of Billy’s thighs, raising steady dark eyes up to Billy. Rubbing his palms over the sweats in comforting strokes. 

“Hey. Hey I mean it.” He murmured up at him, the yellow kitchen light catching in his eyes like gold. Making them glow like honey. “Is that what you were out there thinking? Billy. Baby, I love you. And sometimes people get in fights, or, they disagree, or somebody messes up. But that doesn’t mean they stop loving each other. It’s just a part of life. It’s a part of being in love, too. I mean, I’m not some genius at love, but…nothing you can do would make me stop loving you. Not unless you stopped loving me, and wanted me to stop, too.”

***

Billy swallowed loudly around the lump in his throat but it came out more like a sob, trapped behind a mouth he desperately kept closed. Nothing you can do would make me stop loving you. That sentence made his face fall apart in some kind of childish grief, like waiting and waiting for something to be true but never once thinking it would be and never able to really ask. 

He shook his head because he wouldn’t stop loving Steve, it wouldn’t ever come to that. When he looked down Steve’s hands were rubbing over his thighs like he was trying to settle him down. When he looked up Steve’s eyes were big and glowing and honest and looked like love. 

***

The stifled, swallowed sob made Steve’s heart ache and he was grabbing for Billy’s Marlboro filter, snuffing it out in the sink by the garbage disposal. Reaching for Billy’s sides to ease him closer to the edge of the countertop, close enough where Steve could wrap him up in a hug, his face only as high as Billy’s throat. Crazy hair all up in his face.

“Don’t cry, hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry I got upset at you tonight. I know it wasn’t your fault – it’s not like it was something that you did that was on purpose. I should have just, been more clear that I needed you to go with me. I just…I just didn’t want to feel like I was forcing you when you were scared. It was just, it was a mess, all around, and it’s nobody’s fault. You made it better in every way you could. I promise you, I don’t love you any less. And I can also promise you, I’ll mess up at some point, too. Guaranteed. We’re only human, and shit happens. I’m sorry if I…gave you the impression that I could love you any less because of it. I was just upset.” 

***

Billy cried into Steve’s hair but it didn’t feel bad, didn’t sound painful. It sounded, embarrassingly, like he was some little kid, finally getting a hug after doing something wrong. Realizing it didn’t mean that Steve would stop loving him until he made everything better, as stupid as it was. Only it didn’t seem so stupid to him at the time. 

“I’m sorry,” he said mournfully, his arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and hugging him tight, happy that he could. “I’m really sorry, I went outside because I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to figure out a better way to make it to you or—I’m sorry. I love you.”

***

“You did. You already did. We got to check off your bleachers fantasy, which, well was mine too, and we got to dance for a couple hours to really good music, and you flipped off Tommy, the asshole, and we got tasty milkshakes and split a burger and we took a nice hot shower together and gave you Shirley Temple curls. Plus we both looked great. It was a good night. Those are the parts I’ll remember. You don’t need to make up for anything.”

Steve pet a hand down Billy’s back, rubbing little circles there as Billy cried like a little kid, open, and almost…relieved. “I love you. And there might be more times like tonight, but you never need to worry about me not loving you.”

***

Billy hiccuped and sighed his way through another minute or two of sobs, the exhaustion of the night fully settling on him. He sniffed and set his chin on Steve’s head, squeezing him hard and swinging his legs against the counter. It felt childish but Steve seemed to understand where it was coming from, his big hand soothing against his back while he let everything out. Steve was always good at that. 

“Okay,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and then pulling back, looking over Steve’s face like he was making sure. “Okay. I’m—tired. We can sleep in? I gotta—Chicago, Sunday. Thanks for—loving me. Sorry, I’m fucking short circuiting.”

***

“ ‘s okay. Things’ll feel better in the morning. Always do.” Steve smiled up at him, pulling back a little to soothe a hand over Billy’s cheeks, swiping the tears away with the pad of his thumb. 

“We can sleep in until noon or two or whatever we want. Not like my parents are here to wake us up. And thank you for loving me.” He knew it was kind of a task, really, for the sanest of people. The smartest of people. “C’mon. Let’s go back to bed.”


	10. Chapter 10

‘Do little things for yourself. ‘

‘Now is not a time for any big upheavals. ‘

Billy had spent the solitary drive back from Chicago lost in thought, slept with visions of how to tell Steve, if he would be upset. He drove Max to school in contemplative silence and parked the Camaro with his eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t know when a good time might be, hadn’t thought to ask Bea if it was considered an upheaval to have the conversation with Steve, wasn’t sure what she would say. 

At the very least he’d followed her first bit of advice, wore his new earring and a shirt with only the last two buttons done. He’d thought about the things he wanted to do this summer; be with Steve, rollerblade with Max in tow, throw all thoughts of what Neil might say about his clothes out the window. Susan thought he looked handsome, she’d said so before he’d left and he wondered again how many times in the last few years she’d wanted to say it. 

It was the last week of his high school career so he figured being a few minutes late would be fine, leaned up against the Camaro for a cigarette, fully healed ribs finally on display. Some little thing for himself. 

***

It felt weird, pulling up to Hawkins High for what felt like what of the last times. Last week of school forever. Steve pulled the Beamer up into the parking spot alongside Billy’s Camaro, the spot that he’d staked out for himself, and grinned real bright when he saw Billy. It’d only been like, a day since he saw him last – he’d been up in Chicago yesterday – but it felt like forever, somehow. 

“See you later Steve!” Dustin called, scrambling out of the passenger seat and waving. Hawkins Middle school was just right there, so he started across the parking lot that separated the schools. 

“What time does AV club end again for the last week?” Steve called over his shoulder, grabbing the shoulder of the passenger seat to lean over. 

“4:00!” So earlier than normal.

“Okay, see you then.” Steve called back and pulled the keys from the ignition as Dustin went to find the guys.

He swung his backpack on over his Members Only jacket and headed over to Billy, leaving the BMW unlocked behind him like usual. 

“Hey handsome,” He grinned bright all for Billy, running a hand through his hair and grabbing at his backpack strap with the other. “How’d it go yesterday?” 

***

“It went okay,” Billy said, one corner of his mouth ticked up. “Talked about some kind of big stuff. It was good though, lots of shit to take away.”

He moved off of the Camaro to tug Steve forward by his backpack strap, planting a kiss on his cheek. It was the last week of school after all and Billy found, especially after meeting with Bea, that he just didn’t have it in him to give a shit anymore. If he was going to do small things for himself then this could be something. If the prospect of staying in Hawkins was on the horizon, he wouldn’t be sacrificing anything else for it. 

***

Steve’s nose wrinkled with delight at the kiss on his cheek, still all smiles as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s waist – all healed up now – and lifted him, swept him around in a circle, before settling him back on his feet. 

“Missed you. Glad it went okay – my Auntie’s a smart lady. I’m glad you’re talking to her, she knows practically everything.” 

Steve’d actually suggested that Will talk to her, instead of that weird doctor he was talking to, but of course it hadn’t exactly been possible – not without telling her too much. Putting her in danger, too.

***

Billy hunched his shoulders after he was set down, smiling so hard it made his cheeks hurt. It was what he’d wanted for so long, any ideas of being able to do this always pushed into the back of his mind, not to be touched. It hadn’t been possible until Steve. A lot of things hadn’t been possible until Steve. 

“She’s working to set me up with a team, still not really sure what that means. But now I’ve got some labels she said a psychiatrist will probably want to hand out,” he said with a sigh, though it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, not when he’d come in yesterday morning. “They’re not concrete labels or anything, she said we’ve got to squeeze in more sessions. Apparently I’m the PTSD poster boy, aren’t you proud?”

***

Steve scrunched up his brow as he tried to figure out what Billy meant by ‘team,’ as they started to head towards the school, sliding on his shades and hanging onto his backpack straps. Tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“A team? What kind of a team? I don’t get it either. And I mean…you don’t really need to look at it as ‘labels.’ Right? I mean, that’s…that’s kind of the thing she specializes in.” He shrugged a little. “That’s why I thought maybe she’d be able to…you know. Give you advice. Help. I told you she helps war vets, right? She’s really good at helping with, ah, PTSD. I didn’t really know a lot about it until, well you know Will? Will has it too. So the kids were talking about it a lot and did research and stuff. That’s what made me think, that, even if you haven’t exactly gone to war, well…and those things take time. You have plenty of time.”

***

“I dunno, she said something about medication. Said it’s super likely I’ll have some—depressive episodes, that’s what they’re called,” Billy said with a shrug of his own. “Guess that involves a therapist, psychiatrist, and a doctor. Wants to try getting me those last two in Hawkins or near Hawkins at least.”

He stopped at his locker and resisted the urge to throw all the books inside of it into the garbage, dutifully throwing them into his knapsack and spinning it out of his way. It was nice having Steve follow him, walk along with him like it was the best, the only place he’d like to be. 

“You wanna sleep over tonight maybe? Susan and Max are having girls night or some shit so the place will be empty most of the night,” he said, eyebrows raised like he might be able to pull of Steve’s usual puppy dog face. 

***

Steve smiled slightly at Billy, this soft, sweet thing - loved the way Billy was looking back at him, all cute big blue eyes and pouty lips, and Steve didn’t want to deny him anything, ever. Of course he wanted to.  
But once he thought about it, Steve bit his lip and got a big frowny face on as he went over to his own locker, spinning the dial and grabbing his Trapper Keeper. He didn’t quite meet Billy’s eyes.

“I mean, I really really really do, but um. I’m maybe – sort of grounded?” Steve winced. “My parents got home yesterday. You know, ‘cause graduation coming up. They’re home for the week, but they’re leaving on May 12th.” He said slowly, apparently not elaborating on the reason why. Busying himself with trading textbooks with his locker and backpack, like it was very important and taking up most of his brain function.  
***

“Wait, really? How come?” Billy asked, narrowing his eyes, moving his head around like an owl to try and get some eye contact with Steve. “When did that happen?”

He was grateful that the mention of medication hadn’t made Steve flip his lid, which he guessed he shouldn’t have expected anyway. Steve knew he had a screw loose and loved him anyway, that little smile said as much. But—grounded? The week of graduation?  
***

Steve looked up at him – closing up his locker again, trying to give an easy shrug like it wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t want to freak Billy out, really. And like, Billy’d just told him that he was gonna be working with a new therapist and ‘team’ closer to Hawkins – be put on some medication, possibly, which Steve knew could take time to even out and. He just didn’t want to add anything else onto his plate, he had enough to deal with.  
“Yesterday – they flew in yesterday, to start getting stuff ready, and.” He shrugged a little, looking down at his Nikes with slightly raised brows – having tucked his shades over the neck of his t-shirt. “My dad’s just…on a rampage. It’s pretty normal for him, trust me. He just – looks for reasons to get going.” He glanced up with a little lightbulb over his head. Change the subject, the lightbulb flashed! “But, so, what’re Max and Susan doing? I could always sneak out. Meet you late?”  
***

Billy’s mouth formed a thin line of disbelief and maybe a little scorn, watching Steve try and give him a non-answer. He still wasn’t going to forget prom, what had happened there or how alone Steve was sometimes. Being trapped with his parents for the next week was—not ideal. 

“No no, you shouldn’t get into trouble over me. We can see each other when they go,” he said with a wave of his hand, starting to walk Steve to home room, that hand settling onto Steve’s back while they moved. “Just—why? Did something happen?”  
***

Steve bumped their shoulders together fondly as they walked through the hall, with Billy’s hand at the small of his back The warning bell signaling first period, home room, was gonna be in just a few minutes. But this was really more of a direct question, and harder to avoid the answer to. And it’s not like he‘d lie about it. Steve stared up at the ceiling like it might have some answer to get out of it, maybe a fire alarm would drop out of the sky, but no such luck. 

He tried to keep his voice breezy light like they were just talking about the weather, and he wasn’t exactly going to elaborate on this either – but Steve figured Billy’d need to know either way, with his parents in town, and well, with his dad in general. His dad had been royally pissed. ‘Put his foot down’ or whatever, even if it wasn’t really up to him. It had been a really fun time all around.

“Oh well, y’know, uh, Murphy just ended up making that call she was talking about that one day. It’s not a big deal. You really – just don’t need to worry about it. My mom’s gonna try talking to him. He’s just an asshole.”  
***

“On second thought, sneak out tonight,” Billy said definitely, running his hand over Steve’s spine before stepping away to let people into the classroom. “Fuck your dad. I’ll make you dinner and we’ll just relax, yeah?”

Relax really meant talk about our feelings because Bea had really gotten to him yesterday. He’d told her all about prom, the shitty parts and the good parts, and she’d imparted some wisdom on him. Being the sister of Steve’s dad meant she had some choice things to say about him, mostly that he was a selfish dick who didn’t take enough time for anyone in his life. Billy couldn’t have been less scared of Steve’s dad but he could imagine what it was like for Steve, that need to get away and be with someone who loved him.  
***

Steve’s grin came back a little at that, tipping his head towards Billy, brown hair flopping to the side. “Yeah? Yeah. Okay. I will. But it’ll have to be after he goes to bed. He sleeps like a rock, so, he won’t have any idea. Late dinner work?”

The warning bell rang and people started scattering around them in the hall, heading into their respective classrooms. He reached out to briefly snag their pinkies together like a small goodbye.

“Oh, hey – I’ll see you in Gym?” One of the few classes that they actually had together on Mondays.  
***

Billy nodded to both of Steve’s questions, smiling soft and bright at the touch to his hand. Anything he could say was sort of drowned out by people moving into the room and nearly colliding with them, all in excitement to be done with school soon. He gave Steve’s pinky a shake before disappearing, thinking about how Steve had somehow domesticated him. 

He was thinking about cooking Steve some things he’d grown up eating as he changed into his gym shorts, rolling his eyes at the few whispers and stares in the locker room before he realized why. There was one purple hickey on his collarbone and another, in full view before he’d changed, not far from his dick. 

“You know, I think everybody in gym knows who gave me the hickeys now,” he said when he found Steve, putting his foot up on a bench to tie his converse, smiling wolfishly. “Not that I mind.”  
***

This whole week was busy work, Steve was thinking. Literally there was no point to it, at least not for the seniors. They were walking toward graduation on Saturday, and then they were getting the fuck out of here – finals were done, and like, he didn’t really understand the point of the last week. But Steve was actually pretty excited about Wednesday, because they got their yearbooks, and they could go around and have people sign them and stuff. 

He wanted to like…fill up a full page of Billy’s. He thought it was a pretty good plan. He’d been daydreaming about what he wanted to write in it in English class, while they’d been writing down ‘hopes and dreams for the future.’ Steve had doodled little dinosaurs and hearts and S+B in the lines and thought about writing in Billy’s yearbook. He thought maybe he‘d bring in the Polaroid camera on that day. 

He still had his head in the clouds in gym – he knew he had a bad case of Senioritis, he had all year, but this last week he was completely mentally checked out. And it was still only Monday.

He was busy trying not to be obvious about checking out Billy’s ass from a few benches away, surrounded by a dozen other half naked dudes. He was just sliding on his gym shirt when Billy came over to him. A blush immediately blossomed over Steve’s cheeks and he couldn’t help but smile coyly back at Billy – he liked when Billy got that sharp toothed smile. 

“Guess they do, huh?” he didn’t say sorry, though – he wasn’t, and Billy said he didn’t mind. “Didn’t really think that one out... Hey, speaking of thinking, I was thinking about this - when are you picking up your yearbook from the Library?”  
***

“Hm? Shit, I don’t know. Whenever you do, I guess. Why?” Billy said, combing his curls off of the back of his neck with some frustration. He didn’t want to cut it especially with Neil out of the picture now but it was getting to be a fucking lot. “Man, I think I’m gonna have to start stealing Max’s hair ties if I’m gonna grow this out.”

He followed Steve a little closer to the gym doors, neglecting to put his own shirt on, not that it would come as a surprise to anyone. He kept their shoulders touching and daydreamed a bit about setting his head on Steve’s, settled for that while they entered the gym together.  
***

“Oh, I was just wondering – since we’re signing yearbooks on Wednesday, maybe we can pick them up tomorrow morning? I wanted to borrow yours a little longer, if it’s okay?” 

Steve asked as they headed out onto the gym floor. He glanced appreciatively at Billy’s hair, the hair he loved to get his hands in so much, with those pretty dishwater blonde curls. He leaned into the shoulder touching his, like it was much needed contact. 

“You’re gonna grow it out longer?” He had time to get in, before the PE teacher, Mr. Edmunds, started directing them to start with their stretches.  
***

“Of course it’s okay. Yeah, don’t think I’m gonna cut it for another year or two now that King Asshole is in the clink,” Billy said, bending over and placing his palms flat on the gym floor, turning his head to look at Steve through his curtain of hair. “What do you think? Good look?”

He heard the teacher calling out for them to do suicides and sighed, standing back up. Truth be told they were his favorite and he wasn’t a bad runner, even less bad at pushing through fatigue. Maybe not the healthiest thing in most situations, Bea would say, but for this it made him that elusive word he liked so much : best.  
***

Steve nodded emphatically while they stretched. “Very good.” He couldn’t help but agree, envisioning it in his mind’s eye and somehow Billy also had glitter in his hair again, so long and the curls more pronounced and kind of Farah Fawcetty for some reason, and – Steve snapped out of it when they were directed into Suicides. He sighed. 

He didn’t love suicides. But he didn’t mind running he guessed, and it wasn’t hard for him – he’d always been told he had long gazelle legs whatever the hell that meant, and for a long time coach’d been trying to talk him into joining track, but he’d never seen the point. There wasn’t even a ball.

Hell, since Billy’d gotten here in October, they’d been super competitive about everything, including their suicides. Who could do it faster. Steve almost (almost) always beat him, one of the few things he could actually be better at, even if – and it pained him to admit it (or it used to) – that Billy was better at him at basketball. 

After their quick warm up jog, they started on their suicide sprints, and the weather was nice enough for them to do it outside on the field. The sunshine warm and bright. Steve really felt like he could run better outside than in the gym, where they’d been cooped up all winter. But even as they tore across the field, Steve and his long ‘gazelle legs’ or whatever, loping along easily – he kept glancing at the bleachers. Distracting himself. With that, and with Billy, peering wide eyed over at him in intervals.  
***

Billy would’ve been saying motherfucker if he wasn’t nearly out of breath, just inches behind how fast Steve was going. He knew it didn’t really matter especially if he could get a nice look at Steve’s legs but still. Steve was looking at him every few seconds and he really didn’t need to be distracted—the bleachers. The whistle blew in time for Billy to stop with his hands on his knees, half catching his breath and half laughing at Steve’s apparent fixation, big Bambi eyes looking at him. 

A few seconds later the coach called out, said whichever senior hit one hundred push ups first got to leave early and he was down in a heartbeat. He didn’t have long legs like Steve but he was stubborn. Very stubborn.  
***

When coach blew the whistle, Steve had to stop for a second – catching himself and leaning down over his knees, hands on his thighs to try and catch his breath for a second, panting. Sweat making the back of his neck all fuckin’ itchy, already getting pink with sun. But again, even if they were together, and in love, their competitive streaks were still there for both of them – even if, really, Steve didn’t know if his was there as much. He dropped to the browned grass, which was already getting bright, spring green tufts in between the brown strands – and started on push ups at coach’s whistle. 

However, he decided to let his competitive streak peter out just for the moment. He know he’d won with running. So at maybe around fifty, he hit the grass, rolling over onto his back. Knees bent up, hands on his belly, just breathing up at the sky and panting. But he tilted his jaw to the side to watch Billy keep up with his push ups not too far from him. The way the sun was beating down on his back, perspiration glistening on his skin with this golden glow. 

Just sort of lay there on the grass, watching the ripple of Billy’s stacked muscles under his skin as he chased 100, the cords and tendons of his arms, the way his stomach tensed – Steve had to blink and look away after a bit, blinking several more times up at the blue, cloud smattered sky.  
***

Billy heard coach yell out’ one hundred for Hargrove, attaboy’ he let himself stop, rolling onto his back and smiling like a crazy person. He noticed Sam out of the corner of his eye and lazily met his low five, panting and turning his head to look at Steve. He looked very interested in the sky but he had those pink spots high on his cheeks, impossible to miss because he’d put them there before. 

“Gonna go...prepare,” he said, sticking his tongue out for a second to pant like a dog, shaking his curls and pushing them up off of his forehead. “Jesus. For tonight. You like Mexican?”  
***

Prepare?

Steve almost choked on his own spit as he stared up at Billy standing above him, shaking out his curls and brushing them back like a fucking supermodel posing for a magazine shoot. Steve sort of gaped up at him. Jesus he did things to him. 

Wh – oh. Oh. Dinner. He meant dinner. Steve flushed furiously, felt it itch across his chest under his shirt, and burn at his collar. His mind was in the goddamn gutter, he guessed. Their spot on the bleachers lit up like with a neon sign and an arrow.

“Uh – oh – oh. Yeah, I – yeah. Mexican.” He muttered faintly, nodding like a real idiot. He staggered up to his feet, staring at Billy’s tongue. “That sounds really good.” He’d completely forgotten that Billy was making them dinner tonight. 

He really wanted to touch Billy, so he impulsively reached out and slapped him on the shoulder like any good natured gesture for his 100 push ups – but he let his hand linger a second too long before he dropped it back down to his side.  
***

Billy didn’t bother to suppress the happy little shiver he got from Steve’s hand on his shoulder, a dopey look on his face that he wished had looked just a little smoother. Well, at least they were both stupid for each other. That did mean that he ended up pulling his gym shorts up that extra half an inch they needed to really showcase his ass, and maybe he walked a little slow back inside. 

When he got home early he shared his plans—well, some of them—with Susan and watched her squeal in delight. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed that Steve Harrington had domesticated him slowly but surely, hugging him and throwing grocery money at him no matter how much he tried to fuss. He tacked an I love you on his goodbye to her as she left to get Max as his own little thank you before dashing around the place, trying to figure out what to do first. 

It turned out he had a lot more time than he thought, 8 and 9 o’clock passing by long after he was done with everything. The empanadas could just hang out in a skillet with the rice so he left them heating, figured Steve would show up soon. By 11 he was dozing on the couch, curls perfect and his smallest shorts and favorite lounge shirt from Steve on, splayed out in front of Cheers flashing colors throughout the room.  
***

Steve snuck out of his window with old, practiced ease from freshman and sophomore year, mostly, and headed over to Billy’s. He inched out of there in the Beamer so he wouldn’t wake anyone up, but by the time he got to Billy’s he was ticking along at a decent speed. He didn’t bother with knocking – knew Billy was waiting for him, and Mrs. Hargrove wasn’t there, or Max. So he just let himself in, locking the door behind him.

“Hello?” He called. No answer. He headed for the living room first, because he could smell the mexican food – it smelled amazing, and he figured Billy had to be in the direction of the kitchen. But he found him spread out over the sofa, instead, arms crossed over his chest, chin tucked down as he slept – those impossibly long lashes against his cheeks. Steve thought he looked so sweet, so open – like a little kid. A smile crossed his face as Steve knelt down beside the couch, pressing a soft kiss to Billy’s forehead. 

“Billy?” He murmured. “I’m here.” He gently smoothed a few of those long, perfectly gold curls out of Billy’s face, tucking them behind his ear, where they spilled out over one of Susan’s throw pillows.  
***

Billy grunted in protest, eyebrows furrowed even as his head turned into Steve’s touch unconsciously. He seemed to register it a second later, opening his eyes and smiling, his whole face reacting to Steve being there. A wide yawn left him while he sat up, swinging his legs off of the side of the couch and checking his hair. 

“Hi,” he said, his smile much more alert as he stood, pulling Steve into a sleepy hug and humming against his shoulder. “Hi, Steve. I made you dinner, it’s real empanadas but I sacrificed my California morals and made sure it’s like—negative five on the spicy scale. You want some?”  
***

“Hi. Sorry I’m late,” Steve murmured happily as he burrowed into the hug, pulling Billy real close and pressing his face into the side of Billy’s soft, fluffy hair. His shoulders visibly, physically relaxed within Billy’s hold at the mention of the spice level – 

“Oh okay. Okay that’s really good. I like Mexican food. I just, I usually when we eat a mexican restaurants I always just get the quesadilla. Thanks for making dinner. I’m really am sorry it’s so late, ‘n that I woke you up.”  
***

Billy shook his head at the apology, swaying in place with Steve. Like their own little dance, one he got to do whenever he wanted. Especially when sleepy and agreeable. He slid a hand down Steve’s arm to grasp his fingers, moving him to sit in the middle of the couch and planting the remote securely on top of his leg. Then he moved into the kitchen and came out a minute later with a plate for Steve and his own half eaten plate from an hour before, draping his legs over Steve’s lap. 

“Cheers was an accident, please change it,” he said, making a face at the screen and bouncing a knee, settling into the couch like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Home go okay? Like, actually okay?”  
***

Steve settled into the couch with Billy’s legs draped over him, and honestly, it was so comfortable and relaxing. Felt like home. He glanced at Billy’s half eaten plate, a streak of guilt lighting up his face – he felt bad having made Billy wait so long for Steve to get there, but he really needed his dad asleep before he snuck out.

He nodded with a thank you as he accepted the plate, bracing it over Billy’s knees as he glanced at the TV, wielding the remote to get the channel changed – he flicked it to channel 13, to watch Knight Rider. It was usually on this late.

This really did feel more like being home, melting into the sofa with Billy creating a steady weight over him, watching the tv and biting into the Empanada with the side of his fork. His eyebrows went up – and it really wasn’t spicy. Which was surprising.

“It’s really good – like really good, you can cook stuff like this? It’s not spicy.” His face broke out in a smile as he swallowed. But it flickered, and fell at the next question - he was maybe a little surprised Billy had asked. “And – yeah. I dunno, my mom talked to him earlier around dinner time, but he ate in his study. Like, somehow he’s personally offended or something. Or like – like he can’t even look at me. It’s…totally stupid. I guess it’s not so different from before though. Just a new reason.”  
***

“Yeah, it is fucking stupid. Bea told me your dad’s always been kind of a prick,” Billy said, taking a bite and setting his plate down on the coffee table to get more comfortable, his now free hand closing gently around Steve’s upper arm. “I’m sorry you’ve got to be at home with that asshole. You know you can do this every night that he’s in town, right? Grounded doesn’t mean shit if you don’t like him, or if he’s a dick to you.”

It wasn’t the same as Neil, no threat of violence, no worry for Steve’s safety. Except he was worried, just in a different way. He’d gotten a new place to live and a more settled family but Steve hadn’t, still had the ignoring and the ostracizing to deal with. And now another reason why Steve’s dad was a dick, hopefully not enough to really get to Steve forever. Billy knew it was a thin hope to have and not realistic, but he hoped this helped a little. 

“I love you. I wanna look at you all the time.”  
***

“She said that?” Steve asked, brows arching in mild surprise as he gazed over at Billy, easing into the touch at his arm. “She’s probably still pissed about him not going to visit Grandpa O when he was dying…” It was kind of…different, the way Billy was talking to him. Steve wrinkled his brow. He wasn’t sure why it was different, it just was. He wondered if it was because of something he’d talked about with Bea yesterday or something. 

“Yeah, he’s always been an asshole. As long as I can remember. But I mean, you, you have it way worse with your dad, I – we don’t have to talk about it. Really.” He shook his head a little.

It really wasn’t so bad, he figured. His dad hadn’t tried to kill him. It almost made him feel guilty – bitching to Billy about his own dad when it was just total peanuts compared to all the shit Billy had been through. It wasn’t fair of Steve to do that. Billy had frickin’ PTSD for crying out loud.

A smile flickered over his mouth at the last line, though. “I love you too. And you can look all you want, this face is a gift, I know.” He added, teasing, batting his eyelashes at Billy real big. Took a big bite of his empanada, too. That was probably really pretty. “And thanks - I think I might take you up on that. I don’t even see how he can ground me. I’m turning nineteen in like, practically a week. But ‘his house his rules’ or whatever..”  
***

“Man, fuck him seriously. You don’t deserve that shit,” Billy said, all stern eyebrows and soft everything else, shins bouncing in Steve’s lap unconsciously. “You should take me up on it. Susan’s been in happy housewife mode but I’ll fatten you up once she realizes I’ve offered.”

His stern brows stayed like that at Steve’s dismissal, an uncertain hum behind closed lips. 

“I mean, we can though. That’s why I asked. No more all by yourself, remember?”  
***

Steve rubbed one hand unconsciously over Billy’s shin before he took another bite off of his plate – he was actually starving, he’d been put off his dinner earlier because of the big tiff between his mom and dad and dinner had been right in the middle of it. It was easy to eat with Billy here, with food that Billy had made just for him.

He went a little still though for a second, bite halfway to his mouth pausing long enough to blink rather sluggishly at Billy. Like it was taking a second for his brain to process it. Staring back at Billy with his no-bullshit brows. A slow, sort of shy smile curled over the right corner of his mouth, and he leaned forward over Billy’s legs to settle the half finished plate on the coffee table – alongside Billy’s. Then he came to settle down along his side, laying long over the couch, tucking an arm around his stomach, and interlocking long legs together. 

“Yeah.” He hummed in agreement, resting his head against Billy’s shoulder. Tucking a hidden smile beside his collarbone as he feigned watching Knight Rider over the rise and fall of a broad chest. No more all by yourself. It seemed a bit like a flight of fancy, one of those ‘too good to be true’ things, but Steve was willing to try and trust it. It felt warm and good and he was a little embarrassed it was because he’d kind of thrown a fit at prom like…like a little kid. But.  
***

Billy let a few minutes of gentle silence pass between them, arms winding around Steve’s shoulders and pulling him in a bit closer. Steve sounded a little embarrassed but maybe not in a bad way, maybe how Billy still sounded whenever Susan cooked him breakfast or said he looked nice. The kind that happened because you loved somebody and you knew they loved you. After those two minutes passed, though, he couldn’t quite hold it in anymore. 

“So uh...Bea and I talked about a lot of stuff yesterday. Like, big life stuff,” he said awkwardly, chewing at his cheek before thinking of what Steve would say, licking his lips instead. “She um, she said that I’ve had a lot of upheavals and trauma and that I’m actually in a good, stable spot right now. She—we—I’m not gonna go to college this year. I want to just—stay. In Hawkins.”  
***

Steve perked his head up a little against Billy’s shoulder, peering over his chin with wide brown eyes, big brown hair flopping unceremoniously around as he listened to the big news in silence. Just letting Billy get it out. Billy’d mentioned that they’d talked about some big stuff, and Steve’d been interested, but didn’t want to pry either. If Billy came to him with it, it was a different matter.

Something sort of tense that had been within him, twisted up back in some forgotten part of his chest, suddenly loosened. He hadn’t even known it was there, not really, until Billy said that. Like a pulled muscle he’d forgotten about until he stepped funny. He felt himself relax even more against Billy, letting out a low breath.  
“Really? That…that is big. Big life stuff. I…” Steve chewed on his lip a little in thought, resting his head back against Billy’s chest, watching the television screen without seeing it. Thinking. “I mean, you can postpone your acceptances, right? I think – I mean, it seems like a good idea. You went through some pretty bad stuff, and, maybe just…take a breather. For a little while. I was thinking about it, uh, too. You know. I mean, well, if you’d want me to go with you, and – “

Honestly, everything had already felt so tumultuous and up in the air for Billy, since he’d moved here, really - only getting worse as time went by - that Steve really thought the best thing he could possibly do was to settle himself and try to get some sort of balance.  
***

“Yeah, I got kind of—I had a full panic attack at the idea of contacting every college and postponing and Bea wrote the letters there with me, basically for me,” Billy said, sighing at himself and squeezing Steve tight. “She said it’ll be fine, that there’s no reason it should change. They’ll still be there as long as I don’t let four years pass by, it’ll be fine.”

He took a deep breath because he was definitely convincing himself, the idea still so freshly decided upon that he worried it wasn’t right. Steve sounded supportive though, seemed relaxed. Like it wasn’t a bad decision. 

“Uh, yeah I want you to come with me,” he said, duh in his tone like Max was rubbing off on him, the little brat. “I was thinking actually, we could get some stupid little apartment once I’ve got a first paycheck from the auto shop. I’ve got a nest egg I’ve kinda been stowing away. It was gonna be for Max and Susan but they’re safe now so I guess it’s for me, for us. Is that okay?”  
***

Steve pulled back enough to stare down at Billy, coming up to rest on his elbow against the sofa cushion, the other arm still draped over his stomach. His eyebrows jumped in surprise – thinking about moving to Cali and being semi worried/anxious about it because, halfway across the country, and not knowing anybody (when he’d known everybody here his whole life) and the kids – knowing if they were safe or not, watching out for them. 

Also, living on their own, barely even knowing where they were going…it had seemed like a lot. But his Auntie always said baby steps. And this felt like a baby step in the direction of that, instead of all the big stuff all at once, like it was too much at one time. And Billy was asking him to take that small step with him. They were eighteen, they could go out on their own – do what they wanted. And maybe they didn’t really have to leave the town to do that. It wasn’t as much upheaval, and it was still well within Steve’s comfort zone. And he thought, Billy’s too. Max and Susan were here.

“I – really?” Steve’s face split into a bright grin, like he couldn’t quite contain it, his fingers tightening against Billy’s side. Gazing down at him from under his lashes. “Are you really asking to move in? Together?”  
***

“Yes?” Billy answered, the word drawn out and slow with an inflection at the end, squinting like he didn’t quite want to see Steve’s reaction. “Together. I thought—you could think about moving in here? Earlier than that? Just if you wanted.”

Except Steve’s grip got tighter and when he opened his eyes all the way he was getting that magical King Steve smile, the Steve Harrington Fantasy smile. It made him smile in return, nervous and giddy and happy. So happy. 

“What do you think? You can say no, it’s totally okay, you don’t have to say anything now either. I just—I want you around. Every year, any time. It would be easier if we were in the same bed all the time.”  
***

“Are you kidding?” Steve gasped down at him. Watching the way Billy made this cute little face, smiling back at him, nervous and hopefully pleased – his happy Billy face, that just made Steve’s smile widen until it sort of hurt his face. That kind of smile. 

“Well of course I want to! I mean I – I don’t know exactly when, there might be some stuff to get ready and everything first, but – well yeah. Yes. Yes, I really want to.” Steve surged forward to press an impulsive kiss to Billy’s mouth, chaste and sweet, brimming with barely contained eagerness. He pressed another smiling kiss there, another. “I want to wake up with you every morning.” Another kiss. “Every year. Any time.”  
***

Billy wrapped his arms a little tighter around Steve’s shoulders, scooting close until his knees were up against Steve’s chest. They were both just smiling against each other at some point, his fingers playing with the hair at the back of Steve’s neck, the sound of stupid happy little smacks of his lips every second. Every year. Any time. 

Some time soon they’d be in the same bed every single day. Some time soon they would live together, be poor and tired and happy and in love together in the same space. He would come home from fixing cars and Steve would be there. They would help each other sleep again. 

“Okay,” he said, followed by a kiss, then another, then a few more. “I love you. Okay. Okay.”  
***

Steve was just smiling against Billy’s mouth, all bright white teeth and easy excitement. Where Billy’s legs curled up to get his knees against Steve’s chest, Steve reached down to brush the tips of his fingers over the soft, fine hair of Billy’s thigh with those tiny little short shorts – giving him perfect access to lots of skin.

The idea of actually living with Billy – of being able to be with him all the time – it wasn’t just coming to his house sometimes, but never quite belonging. Or Billy coming to his house, practically a museum, a fine house that was never quite a home, full of the empty parts of Steve, too.

It wouldn’t be like either of those things. No more all by yourself was right.

It was the perfect graduation present – a promise for the future. What they’d been writing in English – their busy work paper on hopes and dreams for the future. This was it. This was what he wanted, in a way he hadn’t been entirely able to articulate on his own. 

“Love you. Love you. We don’t have to use your nest egg, I can get a job too. You should save it, just in case. I can’t wait.”  
***

Billy hummed in agreement, an absent minded sound while he crawled into Steve’s lap fully, legs on either side of him. Thankfully Steve’s fingers stayed on his thigh, a gentle, soothing touch that made him smile even harder. He pulled back an inch to look at him a bit better, happy to see their smiles were matching. Cheeks aching perfectly together. 

“It’ll be like this,” he said, resuming his task of messing up the back of Steve’s hair, twiddling with it with his fingers. “All the time.”  
***

Steve felt really wiggly and overexcited and he kind of wanted to start pacing and brainstorming fun ideas about it, but he also really didn’t want to let go of Billy or get too far out of his orbit. Those rough fingers impossibly soft and sweet as they played with the hair at the back of his neck, making him shiver with delight. Steve’s other hand reached up and gathered itself in Billy’s shirt and he tugged him close enough to plant another kiss on him. 

“It’s gonna be the best,” he murmured against Billy’s mouth, still unable to stop smiling. Like some kind of affliction of joy. “Oh my god I mean it, I can’t wait. I wish it was now. I wish it was tomorrow. Can we get one of those cat clocks? With the tail? Those are so funny. And I can make you breakfast! And buy us chocolate ice cream. Kiss you all the time. Any time I want.” He mouthed lightly against Billy’s mouth, lips barely ghosting over his, like a tease. Tongue barely darting out.  
***

Billy listened to Steve’s excitement and felt himself urged to match it, let himself be pulled closer and made a more comfortable home in Steve’s lap. Thighs spread wide, watching Steve’s reaction to his fingers in his hair. Picturing that stupid cat clock and a freezer full of ice cream, Steve pulling him in for a kiss whenever he felt like it. Any time. 

“Like now?” he asked sweetly, eyelids fluttering closed, lips parted in expectation.  
***

“Mmmhm.” Steve hummed, nodding, and couldn’t help but keep his eyes cracked, just for a second, to soak in the look on Billy’s face – the way his eyes closed so expectantly, the gentle part of his lips, waiting for him. Steve captured Billy’s lips then, really caught them up with his, sucking on his lower lip for a heartbeat. His tongue glided along it, mixed with grazing teeth, and finally licking into the heat of Billy’s mouth. Eyes dropping closed.

His hand slid up the front of Billy’s chest – in one of the shirts Steve had left here for him, one of the comfy ones. It turned him on whenever Billy wore any of his clothes, honestly. That searching hand continued up the side of his neck, catching in his gilded hair. Gently tugging. The weight of Billy in his lap was heady and perfect, his big housecat. Steve glided his palm over Billy’s thigh again, before he dipped it around the side, delicately raking blunt nails over the more sensitive skin underneath. Just south of Billy’s ass.  
***

Billy’s breath hitched at the soft scratch on his skin, an equally soft sound of approval moving into the kiss. The pull to his hair made it even better, his body melting all over Steve’s lap. The happy daydream of having this whenever he wanted was fresh in his mind, realistic now because Steve had said yes. Yes. 

He slid a hand behind him to find Steve’s, gently pulling it up. Guiding it up the back of his barely there shorts to push Steve’s fingers between his cheeks, urging his index finger with a bend of his wrist. He wanted Steve to feel what else he’d been doing all those hours he’d had to prepare, what exactly he’d been preparing for. He wanted Steve to feel him, slick inside and stretched open, breath hitching all over again.  
***

Steve hadn’t been so far off earlier on the field – when he’d almost choked on air when Billy’d said ‘prepare.’ It had been more than dinner. A low groan snuck out of his throat at the realization, at the sudden visualization lurking in his mind’s eye. Of Billy working himself open. 

Steve’d already been getting hard, perking to attention against Billy’s ass where he was perched in his lap. But as Steve’s index finger was guided – with ease – into the cleft of Billy’s ass, past the rim with little to no protest – his cock immediately jumped, filling out the rest of the way as his hips gave a little jerk. Gasping against Billy’s mouth where their tongues were slicking against each other, hot with saliva, all taste buds and teeth. 

His finger – quickly two fingers, because there was no resistance – were quickly dripping with lube and liquids, and Steve was rock hard like it was fucking nothing.

“You get yourself all ready for me, baby?” Steve asked, as if he needed some kind of confirmation of what was already obvious. Steve gave a shallow thrust of his two fingers, hand rocking up against Billy’s ass. “Jesus, you’re so wet for me already.”  
***

“Uh huh,” Billy answered breathily, both arms moving back around Steve’s shoulders again for purchase. He whined as Steve’s fingers picked up a greedy rhythm, the picture they both made in his head making his dick twitch. “Pictured you pushing my shorts to the side, fucking me right away because you couldn’t wait. P-ulling my hair, just like that.”

The way Steve talked to him like this did something to him every single time. It was low and gentle but almost patronizing, like Steve could see what an absolute fucking mess Billy was over him. Especially like this, writhing in his lap fully clothed, tan colored shorts already wet at the front. Any time I want.  
***

Billy’s hair wrapped like ribbons around Steve’s fingers, interwoven between his knuckles as he tugged – pulling just hard enough. Working his fingers deeper into Billy’s hair, and deeper into his ass at the same time. Quickly all the way to his knuckles in Billy’s tight, impossible heat, and it was the fastest he’d ever been knuckle deep in him. His fingers grew a little rushed, setting a hungry pace, curling just so, but Billy was right, he’d been right. And Steve said so. He bent his neck down to lick a hot stripe up Billy’s throat, mouthing there under Billy’s ear, breathing the words against his skin; 

“You were right, can’t – can’t wait. I can’t wait. You ready for me?” 

Steve’s fingers popped out with a filthy sound, hips already rutting with impatience against the slope of Billy’s ass where he was squirming in his lap. Like he wanted it so fucking bad, wanted Steve so fucking bad. He used the hand that had been in Billy to fumble with the button of his jeans, unzipping his fly, and pulling himself out of his boxer briefs – so hard he was aching with it, aching for Billy. To be in him.  
***

Billy nodded, pupils blown wide as he listened to the sound of Steve taking his cock out, felt it hot and heavy against his ass. He reached back with one hand to yank his barely there shorts to the side and whined like it was a crime being made to wait even this long. Seconds like whole eternities. 

“Please? I want it,” he pleaded, head moving back with Steve’s hand, throat bared to the one person in the world he’d give it to willingly. 

He tried to look as appeasing as he could, something honest and altogether dirty about his expression. Like those one or two times he’d been simpering and sweet and slutty only this felt real, so real that it made his cheeks flare up. Moving his ass back like an incentive, holding his shorts open because he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait.  
***

Steve helped Billy pull the hem of the shorts farther aside, fucking nothing underneath, and his cock gave another desperate jump before he grabbed it by the base. Leading the tip to Billy’s hole. He gave a shuddering gasp against the tendon of Billy’s neck as he slid the head in with almost no resistance. Already worked open for him, practically dripping – and it didn’t hurt that Steve was already leaking pre-come. 

But Steve knew he was bigger than fingers, his or Billy’s, so he had to stop for a second once he got the head past the rim. Trying to still his hips, forcing them not to buck upwards, only inching forward a tiny bit at a time. Slowly letting gravity and Billy’s weight do the work for them, a bit of fabric just dragging at the side of his cock, and somehow it made it that much hotter. Still fully clothed, with so much between them, but they couldn’t wait. Neither of them. 

“Oh, oh f - fu - baby, you feel so good. Oh my god.” Steve gasped as he let gravity slowly lower Billy down over Steve’s cock. His head rocked back on his neck, against the back of the couch, lashes fluttering at the tight heat. Grabbing at Billy’s hip like an anchor, the other hand still twisted tight in his hair.  
***

Billy held on to every little bit of broken praise Steve was offering, watched him move back like Billy made it hard for him to keep his head up. His own happily jerked backward, a distraction from the way Steve’s cock was splitting him open on the living room couch. He nodded weakly in agreement or some mirroring of opinion, one hand still fisted in fabric. 

Once Steve bottomed out, however, things—changed for a minute. The first time he’d ridden Steve he’d been a little drunk, what felt like a lifetime ago. They hadn’t done it much since there. What would normally be a slow ease inside of him felt big, really fucking big and hard to escape. 

“Steve,” he whined, his own little bit of reverence, totally fucking tapped out while he collected himself.  
***

Steve was already breathing hard as he was buried to the hilt, head loose against the back of the couch, staring up at Billy like he’d hung the moon and all the stars too. Mouth hanging open, a little lax, letting Billy get his bearings. Not moving at all. After a second he leaned back up, gently nosing at Billy’s throat – pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Billy’s mouth. 

He released Billy’s hip to slip his hand within the elastic band of Billy’s tiny shorts, wrapping long, strong fingers around the hot cock there. Hot and heavy in his hand.

“Are you okay? Is it okay?” he murmured against the soft pink of Billy’s mouth. Sliding his tongue along the bow of his upper lip. He remembered the last time Billy’d rode him like this, in his bed, and he’d had – well, a hard time. They’d had to stop. Well, they hadn’t had to, but – Steve had stopped them.  
***

“M’okay,” Billy replied, a love drunk slur of a word, eyebrows pinched together but the rest of his face completely lax. “It’s okay.”

The kind of attention Steve paid him, especially like this, turned him into jelly. He wondered if it would ever peter off or if it would always be like this, turned pliant and sweet with Steve inside of him. Like some piece was missing until they were like this, when all he had to do was breathe through it. 

He lifted his hips and dropped them once, shuddering at the feeling of Steve’s jeans under his thighs. The hand on his cock had him rocking forward though he was worried he’d come too soon, this particular fantasy one he’d been visualizing all day, waiting for. He whined again and let go of his shorts to press down on Steve’s hand, like it was too much, like it wasn’t enough.  
***

“Here, I’ve got you, got you,” Steve said as Billy’s fingers fluttered over his own, pressing against them. He took the ‘okay’ and the way Billy rose up and dropped himself back on top of Steve’s cock as some kind of a go-ahead. Even if, in this position, really, Billy had most of the control. But that didn’t mean Steve had to be lazy about it, either – he never was in bed. He was always very attentive, very focused on making sure Billy felt good, not just Steve. Really it was often more important to him that Billy was feeling it. 

Steve released Billy’s cock for only a second to spit into his palm, before he got his fingers back around him. But he just sort of carefully squeezed and only gave a few slippery, generous strokes - not enough to make him come too fast. But enough to make it feel good.

He gently rolled his fingers in Billy’s hair and gave a smart tug. Lifting his hips up off of the couch at the same time, rocking upwards, cock pressing up into Billy’s ass. It left him moaning, low and sweet in the back of his throat. 

Looking up at Billy with wide, pupil blown eyes, dark with lust and bright with love. Like looking into the direct sun. “Beautiful. So pretty – “ he admitted, panting, rutting up again from the sofa cushion. Insistent and almost desperate for Billy to move.  
***

Billy stared at Steve’s mouth like he was hypnotized, nodding along like there wasn’t any other choice. His hips jerked in Steve’s grasp and he sat still for a moment. Savoring the drag of Steve’s hand over his cock, that Steve thought he was beautiful, pretty. 

It only took one more impatient thrust from Steve for him to move, no longer slow and overwhelmed. He’d worked himself up too much to do that now, lifting and dropping his hips at an almost merciless pace. Greedy just like his hands, sliding and gripping along Steve’s shoulders, down his chest and up into his dark hair. 

“Fingered myself,” he panted, one hand fisted in Steve’s shirt for leverage and giving it a twist. “Thinking about this.”  
***

The pace Billy set almost made Steve dizzy, lifting his ass up off the couch to meet Billy’s merciless rhythm. Bracing his feet on the floor, and grasping his hard, spit slick cock with one hand and pulling him off in time. 

The other hand twitched in Billy’s hair as Steve gasped, short, hitched breaths fighting their way out of his chest each time Billy dropped his weight back down. 

“Wanna – see it,” He choked out between breaths. “Wanna see you – open yourself up, for me. Next time.”  
***

“Graduation pr-esent,” Billy said, going for smartassed but halted by a long, drawn out whine, head tipping all the way back. His smile slid right off of his face, his expression screwed up in miserable pleasure, hands landing on Steve’s shoulders and digging in there. 

The sound of his thighs smacking against Steve and the sharp pain in his scalp had him gasping raggedly for air, hips grinding down and staying like that. Not lifting like some kind of fucked up admonishment, like Steve was being just too fucking good to him. He looked down his nose at him and let out a shaky breath, nails scratching at Steve’s shoulders because he just couldn’t help himself. 

Steve laughed, breathless, almost nothing but air – he felt like he was buzzing, all over his body, totally fucking wild with Billy riding him like this.  
***

“But what’ll – I get you – ?“ He gasped, smiling up at him, face hazed over with pleasure, almost dopey with it. 

Then as Billy dropped his hips and positively ground down against him, Steve’s head went loose on his neck again, panting up at the ceiling, eyebrows screwing up as he completely bottomed out again. But like, with a vengeance. And Jesus that alone almost had him coming way too soon – it felt so fucking good, had his eyes rolling up into the back of his head as his hips stuttered up, up, up, all desperation and mindless pleasure. Chasing it.

But then he lost his grip on Billy’s hair and grasped at his hip instead, getting some better leverage – and used it to actually tilt up into Billy, pressing into the roof of his ass. Angling himself from beneath.  
***

Billy’s mouth dropped open at the angle Steve was hitting, something close to a scream leaving his mouth and bouncing off of the walls. If he hadn’t been so fucking love drunk he would’ve commented on it, told Steve no one had ever pulled that out of him before. He thought maybe Steve could tell by the way his eyes started to glaze over and his body went lax, like Steve had cut all of his strings in one fell swoop. 

Steve’s name came out in stuttered and slurred syllables until nothing he said made sense, just a smashing of words tumbling out of his mouth. His fingers slipped on Steve’s shoulders but he couldn’t get a good grip again, everything too loose, too fuzzy now.  
***

If there was ever a particularly good incentive, it was that cry – practically a scream, the good kind. It had Steve using his newfound grip on Billy’s hip to really roll himself upward, seizing some of the control back. Even with Billy on top, Steve was rutting up into his ass from below, effectively beating into that spot that he’d memorized – up on his socked toes with effort. Pounding up into him like pressing a button on repeat, as if expecting a different response each time. Baring his teeth a little with intention, and with the overwhelming amount of fucking euphoria that spread throughout his body each time he rocked up into Billy – straddling him on the sofa, a perfectly filthy picture. Hanging onto his hip and using Billy’s full weight to his advantage. 

He gave Billy’s cock a squeeze, thumbing over the head, smearing pre-come and really picking up his pace then – snapping his wrist with gusto, really trying to work Billy up. Get him close.

“Gonna come for me, baby?” He panted, knowing it was soon, could feel it, hear it – in the way Billy’s cock throbbed under his palm, and the way Billy started babbling pure nonsense and unintelligible sound. And Steve aimed to make it good.  
***

Billy’s body took it as a cue, all of that perfect and painful pleasure hitting him at once. He curved forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck as he came, hips stuttering and blindly chasing whatever was being given to him. His hands still couldn’t find much purchase, eyes too heavy to hold open, but it was okay. The proof of that was all over his stomach now, wrecking his shirt and Steve’s. 

“Love you,” was all he managed, muffled into Steve’s skin, each attempt to meet Steve’s thrusts punctuated by more sounds.  
***

Billy’s orgasm, as it often did, tripped Steve’s. Like a faulty trip wire that couldn’t take the strain of Billy’s low moans, broken, memorizing whimpers, or the way his body took over – chasing it’s pleasure. All sound and movement and the feeling of Billy’s cock thrumming in Steve’s hand. He just never really lasted after that. 

Steve was right after him, his fingers digging in at Billy’s hip, all blunt fingertips and a sweaty palm – eyes flinching closed as he let out a wavering, rather delirious moan at Billy’s ‘Love you’ – two little words that made him see stars, all white behind his eyelids, wrapping white fire up his spine, and ivory lava in his belly. Made him shiver, made him shake, and he was filling Billy up. He gave a harsh, shocked sigh as he eased back onto the couch – his entire body had locked up, gone stiff through his orgasm, seizing. Now he was just jelly. Suddenly over sensitive and everything was too much, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. Slumping against the cushion and trying to gently ease Billy back against it with him.

“Love you,” He echoed, all dreamy and disconnected.  
***

Billy nodded into the crook of Steve’s neck, still struggling to catch his breath. Every time they fucked it was like this now. This long, drawn out moment of vulnerability, both of them panting and weak and with each other. Something they could ride out together, clinging to one another until things didn’t feel so big. This time it felt like it might never stop. 

He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and set his hands on his back, holding on like Steve was the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth. He took in one last shuddering breath before it seemed to even out, exhausted and happy all over again. 

“Stay?”  
***

This moment, where it was just the feeling of hammering hearts against one another, of trying to catch breath with shared air, and Steve nosing into Billy’s curls – going soft inside of him – it was, also as usual, one of Steve’s favorite times. Probably in the whole world. He secretly kind of thought he might actually like it better than the actual sex. Not that he’d ever admit it. But he also thought maybe he was a little obvious about it. Steve wrapped his arms tight around Billy’s waist, hugging him close as he settled into the cushions. Pressing soft, almost absent minded kisses against Billy’s collarbone where Steve was nuzzled into the juncture of his neck. 

“Mmmm…mhm.” Steve nodded a little, pausing to darken the somewhat faded hickey mark on Billy’s collarbone. When he finished, salving his tongue over it - he pulled back enough to admire his work, and turn those dark, lovey-heart eyes up to Billy. “Sure I will. But I’ll need to go pretty early – dad gets up around six.”  
***

Billy didn’t really hear what Steve said, too focused on the pleasant sting on his skin. He pictured a kitten being picked up by the scruff of its neck, pliant and agreeable and saw no discernible differences. He just hummed along, easing himself out of Steve’s lap with a soft, mournful sound at the loss of his cock. 

“C’mon,” he said pleasantly, albeit absentmindedly. Shirt sticking to his stomach with come and his shorts a mess, curls in his face as he fumbled for Steve’s hand, guiding them toward the bedroom.  
***

Steve tagged along after him, immediately accepting the offered hand with his non-dominant one, and specifically licking the come off the fingers of the right one. Like he didn’t want to waste it. Watching Billy over his shoulder as he did it, a thoughtful expression on his face, like he was thinking about something. He loved how Billy looked like this – all fucked out, beautiful, flyaway curls and rumpled clothing, with Steve’s come probably leaking out of his ass. Well. It was just kind of perfect. He always looked freaking amazing.

“What do you have in mind?” Steve murmured, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as they wandered through the impossibly thin, wood paneled hallway.  
***

Billy shrugged, smiling with his eyes mostly closed and bumping into the door frame of his bedroom. He opened the door with his free hand and threw the covers back haphazardly, pushing at Steve’s shoulder with almost no muscle behind it. 

“Sleep,” he said, yanking his shirt up and over his head and throwing it elsewhere. The shorts were a little harder but once he kicked them away he shivered, come running down the inside of his thigh. He crawled into bed and knew it was a little raunchy of him but he couldn’t help it, wanted to sleep just like that. “Feels nice.”  
***

Steve hummed as he let Billy push him into the bed, squirming a little to get comfortable. He tossed his own shirt to join Billy’s, and zipped his jeans back up as an afterthought, arching his back as he his shoulders until they popped. Where Billy crawled closer to him, Steve tugged him even closer, lashes lowering as he furled both arms around his bare shoulders. 

“Sounds good to me.”

He gently turned Billy around onto his side where Steve lay along his back, curving against his spine. Huffing a low sigh into the back of his neck, knocking his knees into the backs of Billy’s thighs, and burying his nose into soft, downy curls. Steve’s left arm looped over his waist to keep him near.

“Do you need anything? Before bed?”  
***

Billy shook his head, melting down into the mattress with the help of Steve’s long limbs wrapped around him. He couldn’t think of anything he possibly needed like this, coming up completely fucking empty. He’d gotten a glimpse of what he’d get to have some day, every day. That was enough. 

“Mmm, no. Just love you is all,” he said, drifting somewhere toward asleep and further from away. “Goodnight, Steve.”  
***

Their last game of the year against Northwestern had been a home game, thank god. And they fucking won. It had felt like nothing from the past two weeks had mattered – everybody on the team had swarmed around Billy like the queen bee, team captain, made the winning shot and the winning play, both. Carried the team, really. Like he usually did. And Steve was fucking stoked, riding on the same high as the rest of the team, he’d been right there with everybody else literally holding Billy up before somebody dumped the orange dispenser of purple Gatorade all over him – not the best idea inside of a gym, but you know, the heart was there. 

Now Billy was all purple and sticky, and they were in the locker rooms – laughing and shooting the shit and coming down off the high, and Steve knew they’d be talking about beating those goddamn Northwesterners forever, just like last time, and – well. Maybe not forever. Graduation was on Saturday. But Steve knew he wouldn’t shut up about it for a while. Half the team had already headed out after high fives and most of them had headed off to the diner for winners sodas, but Steve and Billy had declined – even if Steve had been kind of into going, but, Billy was all sticky and needed a good shower. Steve was grabbing the stuff out of Billy’s locker for him, along with a clean towel and another bar of soap. He got a high five from Sam on his way back to the shower. 

“Good game, man, see you around. You sure you’re not coming for some pop?”

“Nah, ‘m good. Maybe another time, after graduation?”

“Yeah sure. See ya, Harrington.” 

Steve waved. He hadn’t quite hopped in the shower yet, still a sweaty mess, with a dark ring around the collar and pits of his gym shirt, and making his hair curl with it. 

“Alright, your highness.” Steve called with a grin as he stepped towards the showers. There’d been talk of King Hargrove all around tonight. It made him feel so happy for Billy he thought he might actually explode. “Found more soap.”  
***

Billy looked over his shoulder, setting his chin against it while he grinned with every single one of his teeth. He paused to rinse his hair out for the second and definitely not final time, tipping his head back before reaching out for the offered soap. He was practically vibrating with happiness, that tangible feeling of being unequivocally good at something sorely missed. 

“Thanks,” he said, still smiling ear to ear as he worked more shampoo into his curls, still smelling artificial grape. “You gonna come in with me, sweetheart?”

It hadn’t just been winning or being the best, not even getting the winning shot in. It was being held up by people for a minute and not worrying about it being a trick for the first time in—well, a while. Getting Gatorade dumped on him and knowing it wasn’t ill intentioned, having people clap him on the shoulder and give him smiles and praise that was real. It made his nerves sing and override the soreness of playing so hard, made him smile big and bright like he might never stop.  
***

Steve’s heart absolutely ached. Like it was going to beat right out of his chest seeing Billy like that, and he was grinning, too, smiling back like the entire world was suddenly right because Billy was so happy. And that’s all Steve wanted, really. Billy deserved so much happiness, especially after so much awfulness. Steve wanted everyone to see all of the good and kind and beautiful parts of Billy that Steve saw. 

Steve set the gym towels and Billy ‘n Steve’s clothing down on a bench by the door that went back out to the lockers. He shrugged out of his sweaty, nasty Hawkins High gym shirt and lay it over the bench, too, but not close enough to touch anything clean. His tiny gym shorts and briefs joined them, already barefoot as he padded naked across the tiles in the orange showers. 

It was just them left – no winning game pops for them – unless they showed up later, Steve supposed. He stepped up behind Billy where he was faced into the spray, wrapping long arms around his washboard of a stomach, pressing a kiss in between his shoulder blades. Water pooling at his feet as he breathed in deep. 

“Mmm grape. Jesus, that was a great game. You played so good, babe, I – Andy was saying some scouts were there and they wouldn’t shut up. You might have s’more options to look at than just the schools you applied for when you decide to go.”  
***

“What, really?” Billy asked, glancing over his shoulder with raised eyebrows, smile still on his face. He looked back at the tile and tilted his head, daydreaming some more. “Huh.”

He reached for the new bar of soap and scrubbed at himself absentmindedly, eyes on nothing at all. He’d never really considered playing college basketball really, even if he knew he was good, better than good. He always pictured himself just so happy to be free and away from Neil that he’d dabble in a handful of things, find something he might be good at no longer under Neil’s thumb. 

“Never really thought about that, I guess,” he said, leaning back into Steve’s embrace. “We play really well together though. Might’ve been my second favorite part.”  
***

“Yeah, really.” Steve hid a smile against Billy’s back, but he realized he was getting sticky now too – everywhere he was touching Billy. He laughed and wrinkled his nose, spreading his hands out in front of Billy’s belly, palms up into the spray.

“Oh man it’s contagious.” He kept laughing, breath fanning water against Billy’s shoulder blade. “We do make a really good team, huh? When you aren’t constantly riding my ass.” Steve stole the soap from Billy, soaping up his perfect chest and leaning against him. Lifting his head up to rest his chin upon the rise of Billy’s shoulder. “Can’t say I minded that either, though. Playing ball with you is always my favorite.”  
***

Billy closed his eyes for a moment, shoulders honest to god wiggling out of giddiness. Best entire day he’d had in a long time not counting his birthday. He let Steve run the soap over his chest and felt his stomach muscles jump at the sensation, the cherry on top of all of it. 

“Mind getting my back?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the kind face resting on top of it. “You feel like celebrating away from everybody? Cheap beer?”  
***

Steve pressed a kiss to a wiggly shoulder before he pulled back. “Sure.”  
He scrubbed the bar of soap over Billy’s back, making the suds run purple as she slunk down to the floor. 

“That sounds perfect. We could swing by Bradley’s – maybe grab some chips and junk too? Really make our own little party out of it.” He also used the stolen bar to soap himself up a little too, because he totally smelled like the inside of a gym shoe or something, and he wanted to smell good especially if they were going out. He even scrubbed some of the suds into his hair, over his face, sticking his head under the spray alongside Billy’s, letting it hang over his shoulder and drip water to the tiles. Still cleaning up Billy’s back, and ass, too.

“Bleh.” He made a face, getting soap in his mouth.  
***

Billy cackled, yelping a bit when Steve’s hands started on his ass. He turned his head to plant a wet kiss on Steve’s cheek with a hum, nosing his temple before shaking his head like a wet dog, curls flying. 

“Mhm, sounds good,” he said, briefly considering a romp in the shower. It would check off one of his shower fantasies concerning Steve but he wasn’t a fan of the time constraints, though that didn’t mean they had to do nothing. “Can I blow you first? Thank you for convincing me not to quit?”  
***

Steve froze for a second, turning his eyes back up to look at Billy, looking a little flabbergasted. He glanced around a little like he was expecting coach to waltz in or something, or really anybody from the team – but they were all gone by now. 

They were the only ones left, thanks to the gatorade. Steve got a slow smile spreading across his mouth like molasses, cheeks coloring a little at the thought. He wouldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it before. Even way before they’d started hooking up – way before that, if he was being honest. There were only so many places for his mind to go in the school showers with Billy Hargrove naked beside him, as Steve studiously tried to keep soap in his eyes and try not to look. It only worked so much, though.

“Checking off one of your boxes?” Steve asked, eyebrows wiggling as he stuck his tongue between his teeth. He thought he remembered Billy saying ‘showers’ when he’d been talking about his mysterious checkmark list, but…

He was still draped over Billy’s back, before he took a short step backwards. The scent of grape in his nose.  
***

“Uh huh,” Billy said as he turned around, no teasing whatsoever in his expression. “Right at the top.”

He slid down to his knees like it was the easiest thing in the world to do, and for him it was. He’d thought he’d come on strong enough that first time in the shower, some kind of test that had left him wanting and completely fucking obsessed. It had worked on the basketball team back in California but didn’t come to fruition in Hawkins the way he’d wanted it to. Well, not then anyway. 

The sigh that came out of him then was one of relief, his nose running down the length of Steve’s torso. He bypassed his cock to take a little bite out of his hip, hands sliding up and settling on either side of Steve’s ribs. His little feline smile was more than present as he moved his mouth closer to his goal, nice and sweet when he looked up at Steve, when he finally licked a hot stripe up the underside of his cock.  
***

“Oh, oh wow, okay, okay yeah.” Steve said, his teasing expression dropping away to be replaced by something eager and generally surprised. As Billy hit his knees on the tiles, water swirling around them, Steve had the most surreal feeling. Like they’d hooked up, fucked, and made love, and had flat out blown each other a good number of times already. But suddenly it was back in October and Billy hadn’t beat Steve up yet and Tommy was gone and everybody was gone but them. And it was like this fantasy that had been buried in the back of his head come to life. 

Steve rocked back on his heels just slightly as Billy gazed up at him, all hooded bedroom blue eyes and this sweet, simpering mouth. All the sweeter to swallow Steve down with. Steve had to swallow too, hard, eyes huge as he stared right back. Wet locks flopping over his forehead. His cock was already filling out with interest, practically half hard in record time. 

He let out a small giddy, breathless laugh, but it was quickly cut off into a half moan as Billy’s tongue ran up his cock, making it jump – hotter than the shower and hotter than the steam. He dropped the soap with a slippery, dull ‘thunk.’ The moan bounced back at them off the neon orange shower walls, and Steve’s hand instantly gravitated towards Billy’s head. Lacing his fingers into those wet locks. He got his feet spread wider, blinking against the spray as Billy got his mouth on him.

“Oh god, oh – jesus – thought about this. I thought about this. Before.” Steve admitted, lashes fluttering as he gazed down at Billy. Adam’s apple bobbing.  
***

Billy paused mid-lick, just a brief flash of a thing. He pictured all the leering he’d done in the showers being catalogued by Steve. He pictured Steve touching himself to that image, wasn’t sure how likely it was. It didn’t matter. 

He took a few swipes of the head, making sure Steve’s cock was nice and wet before he decided to take all of it down. Steve’s cock was a challenge even for him but practice had made perfect, eyes staring up at Steve as his cock hit the back of his throat. The sensation made his throat tighten up and his stomach jump but even that was pleasant, a low hum after a short gag. Fingers curling against Steve’s ribs.  
***

Steve’s toes curled against the tiles, feeling more than a little weak kneed with Billy actually swallowing him down – a feat that, honestly, nobody before Billy had been able to actually accomplish in it’s entirety. Steve guessed girls had smaller mouths, daintier throats, hell he didn’t know what it was – but Billy could do it. Steve hissed in a breath and let it out as a sharp whimper, letting it bounce off the walls as he tightened his fingers in Billy’s hair. Both hands now. Really trying not to rut his hips forward, but they stuttered just a smidge when the head touched at the back of Billy’s throat. 

“F-feels good, baby.” Steve’s words stumbled over themselves, all breathy undertones. He had to tear his eyes away from Billy, sucking him down - if he kept looking at that image, he’d never last more than a few seconds. He got his eyes on the ceiling, neck arching back, gasping for air. His whole fucking body lit up like a light.  
***

Billy let his eyes flutter closed when he was sure Steve wasn’t looking anymore, sighing at the praise. His mouth went slack the moment Steve’s hips moved even a fraction, that familiar lurch of his stomach before it eased a bit, gave way to something pleasant. He dug his fingers into Steve’s sides and then caressed down them like some tiny apology. 

It was about as perfect as he’d thought it would be in his wildest fantasies. He’d imagined this, Steve’s fingers threading into his hair and easing him down to his knees after practice. Thought of Steve Harrington calling him a brat, but baby was so much better. He got to hear it as long as he wanted. Any time, every day.  
***

The hot drag of Billy’s tongue over his cock, the way he sucked on the head, laving over the ridge along the underside – the way he swallowed him down like it was nothing, had Steve’s hips mindlessly quivering, trembling forward even as he fought the impulse…it was so good, it was so much, and the stimuli of the visuals around them didn’t help. Just made it so much better, pushed Steve that much closer. 

He thought of how he’d noticed Billy that first day after practice, how freaking ripped the guy was, how good he looked, the soft hang of his cock and the way he made those eyes at Steve. Eyes like the bedroom ones he’d just been looking into. But this wasn’t just some errant daydream after Nancy’d dropped his ass – this was real, this was his. Billy was his. This wasn’t just looks anymore, this was so much more, this was love and - They were talking about moving in together. 

“Mine, y-you’re mine - ‘s not – not like before, I, I looked at you. Saw you,” Steve flinched, he was getting really close to the edge, starting to babble. Edging up onto his toes, and pretty close to not being able to stand. “Saw you looking at me, wanted – wanted you. Oh – sh – mm, Billy, I…uh…h….I can’t...” His knees started to buckle, legs trembling like a newborn calf, hips pushing forward.  
***

Billy pulled off of Steve’s cock and moved his hands to steady Steve by the hips. He made a soft shushing sound and urged him backward until his back hit the tiles, used what strength he had to help him stay upright. Mine had him smiling again, not so much sweet as he was dumbstruck now. 

“Like that, just stay like that,” he breathed, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Steve’s thigh, fingers tightening. “Dreamed about you. Dreamed about this for months. Yours.”  
***

Steve let his back hit the tiles with a wet smack, chest heaving as he looked down at Billy hazily, a whimper in the back of his throat at the loss of that perfect mouth. His fingers had flinched down to Billy’s shoulders for better purchase, at least for the moment. Pleasure making him giddy, skin bubbly like champagne, and his knees as reliable as putty. 

Dreamed about you. He’d dreamed of him? Dreamed of Steve? Even back then? For months. Steve let out a disbelieving laugh, shivery and aching as he fell away from the edge of his orgasm – even if his stomach was still all clenched up into delirious, love loopy knots. 

“You did?” He asked, quietly breathless under the spray of the water. “I – me too. All the time.” When he hadn’t had bad dreams, he’d had good dreams. “I – had to leave the showers early, more’n once.”  
***

Billy’s eyes went wide, not sure what to do with the picture Steve was painting. All he could do at first was nod and watch Steve laugh like someone who’d been told they just won the fucking lottery. What felt like a lifetime between the first time he saw him and this, getting to have this. 

From swirling down some constant black hole all by himself to winning the last game of his high school career, having people like him again even if only for a night. To moving in with Steve Harrington some day, having some kind of family. To being able to run down that list, check every single thing off in his lifetime and then some. 

He leaned forward to swallow Steve’s cock down again, grasping for one of his hands and setting it in his hair. The sound of blood rushing in his ears and water hitting the tile, the way Steve’s breathing changed whenever he was getting close. It made that little lurch of his stomach pleasant all over again, jaw loose and urging Steve’s hips to move as quick as they wanted.  
***

It didn’t take much to push him right back to how close he was before, but this time, he kept only one hand in Billy’s hair, and reached up with the other arm to grasp at the neck of an inactive showerhead above him, protruding from the wall. His head rocked back against the tile, lashes fluttering as Billy swallowed him down again, letting Steve’s hips thrust loosely, even if Steve kept it to a minimum. But he couldn’t help the movement itself. But y’know, sometimes it’s like Steve never really could shut up and apparently it was just one of those times.

“Dreamed – of each other. Guess I could…call you my…dream boy, h-uh? Heh-uh…oh…oh don’t – don’t stop, d-I’m g…gonna.” A whole body shudder passed over him as he lay against the wall, hanging on desperately to the showerhead, well-kept nails raking Billy’s scalp. “Love you, lo-, lo – mmh - “ Steve gave one last jerk of his hips and came with a shot, goosebumps rising despite the heat, giving a cry that rebounded against the tiles. Pressing into the back of Billy’s throat as his hips worked forward of their own accord, breath freezing in his chest.  
***

Billy’s nails scratched down the top of Steve’s thigh, throat bobbing as he swallowed. The sound of Steve coming down was like music, the tinkling bells of Steve’s moans and the shivering of his legs. He’d done that, he was the one who’d done that to him. When he pulled back he tongued the corner of his mouth, catching his breath and shaking his head, making a check sign with his right hand. 

“You laughed while I was sucking your dick,” he said, sitting back on his heels and hiding a smile. “Can’t say anyone’s ever done that before.”  
***

Steve melted against the wall, his muscles turned to goo as he slowly opened his eyes. He’d forgotten even closing them. He peered down at Billy, caught him making the check sign in the air, and a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. This loopy, post-hazy smile as he sank down to his knees on the tiles. Creeping towards Billy on hands and knees amidst the steam and spray. Okay, he hadn’t actually meant to laugh, but he didn’t even know if he would call an addled ‘heh’ a laugh really. 

“Only ‘cause I’m super clever really,” Steve smiled all saccharine at him as he wrapped a hand around Billy’s cock. Now that they were both on the tiles, Billy sitting on his heels, it was easy for Steve to settle into his lap. Straddling his thighs. Long, strong fingers enveloping Billy’s dick as he bent his neck to press a kiss to a soft, full mouth. Didn’t care if it even tasted like himself. “Dream boy.”  
***

Whatever Billy was going to say fell by the wayside, no smart ass remark left on his tongue. Steve’s fingers, Steve’s mouth were very good at doing that. He went nice and easy into the kiss and hummed disapprovingly at the nickname even if he liked it—well, really fucking liked it. 

He leaned forward expectantly for another kiss, legs spreading just a bit at the sensation of Steve’s hand. It was something he hadn’t had the foresight to put on the list, sure it would never be reciprocated. Now he might have to take another look at it, add a few things like this on. His hips tilted up, just as expectant as his mouth, an appeasing little sound leaving it.  
***

Where Billy’s mouth came looking or more, his hips doing the same, Steve was eager to give. He always had so much to give, and he was more than happy to do it. Where his fingers curled around Billy’s dick, made slippery by shower water and remnants of soap, he started stroking him. Long, hard pulls on his cock with just the right amount of pressure, slowly building momentum where Billy’s hips lifted up against his hand. Thumbing over the head, and swiping pre-come from the slit. 

Meanwhile, his mouth moved against Billy’s, opening and parting to meet their tongues in the middle. Licking the sounds from his mouth, and nipping at his lower lip. Inching closer, with both knees on the tiles on either side of Billy’s thick thighs. He tasted like grape, and like Steve, and it was an interesting combination to say the least.  
***

Billy sighed into the kiss, one hand moving to Steve’s shoulder to steady himself. He grabbed for Steve’s free hand and set it on the side of his neck to keep himself still, never so happy about how directable Steve could be. Whatever he wanted, Steve would give it to him. Whatever he needed, he got. 

Riding the adrenaline from winning and all of that sweet serotonin rushing through his brain made for a quick summit of arousal, both arms winding around Steve’s shoulders to get him closer. The kiss was perfect, all of it was perfect, an absolutely fucking perfect moment in a perfect day. His orgasm came quick but felt so good he didn’t have the time to be embarrassed. 

He whimpered Steve’s name right into his mouth as he came, trusting Steve to hold his head up when it felt like it weighed a ton. The kiss continued as he rode it out even if his finesse fell by the wayside, desperate licks at Steve’s bottom lip even though he was more than satisfied.  
***

“Billy, baby,” Steve huffed against Billy’s lips, arm working. “My king.” Playing at the talk from earlier with the team. King Billy, King Hargrove, team captain extraordinaire. 

Steve gently held on to the side of Billy’s neck, rubbing circles into the skin beneath Billy’s ear with his thumb – one of his sensitive spots – and carefully kissed him through his orgasm. His tongue slipping out to sooth against Billy’s, where it lapped hungrily at his own lower lip. Playing the tips together while Steve wrist snapped off at an almost frantic pace until Billy’s come was painting his fingers.

Hot breaths panted against Billy’s mouth as he felt Billy start to turn plaint beneath his touch again, and they were practically chest to chest. The taste of his own name still on his tongue.

His hand went still as Billy started to soften, when he flinched at over sensitive nerves. Gently pressing soft kisses now, to the little line at the corner of Billy’s mouth. Giving him a second to come down from the high. Catch his breath.  
***

Billy let himself relax, eyelids fluttering until they closed under the weight of everything. Having Steve still holding his cock, still holding his neck for him, his mouth sweet and light against his own. He didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve something like this, something quiet and fond out of Steve Harrington. His dream boy. 

“I’m so fucking lucky.”  
***

So fucking lucky. No, Steve was the one that was lucky, he thought. He thought it while they got dressed, and during the drive over, and at Bradley’s, and even now. Sitting on what was maybe the edge of the world, his Nikes dangling over it. His brow was all crinkled up as he gazed over the lip of the Quarry, and his lips were smarting a little from the salt from the chips. 

He took a swig of the beer, holding it by the bottle neck, while he held Billy’s hand with the other. He tilted his head. Billy thought he was lucky. Lucky to be with Steve. They’d been talking about the game basically since they left the gym, nice and squeaky clean, and now they were just kind of shooting the shit. Drinking beers and snacking on LAYS chips. And. And Steve was thinking too much, probably. His dad would say he would ‘hurt himself.’ He sighed, making a little wrinkled puppy face as he looked down over the splashes of color and light on the water as the sun started to set. Speaking of his dad, and being lucky.

Insects in the trees were starting to buzz – it was already the beginning of may, and it was weird to hear them back. Made it actually start to feel like summer, everything greener, brighter. He loved May. He thought his birthday month felt like a gift of summer. Of life and hope.

“So uh. My dad and I kind of umm. We got into it again? And I think I’m really gonna do it. I was looking through the paper for job ads, and there’s a couple openings at the new mall that’s opening. It’s basically impossible to get a job downtown, because well, you know. Only so many stores, and the people who work there will work there until they die, so.”  
***

Billy was in the middle of rolling a joint for both of them when Steve started to talk, pausing with his tongue out. He finished licking the rolling paper and lit the end, taking a long pull and holding his breath as he handed it over. We got into it again. That could mean a few different scenarios and he wasn’t sure how willing Steve might be to elaborate. Still, it was worth a try. 

“How bad was it? Are you alright, I mean?” he asked, voice tight until he exhaled, smoke swirling around his head as he leaned against Steve’s shoulder with his own. “You can move in whenever you want to, y’know. If it’s getting bad. Got a nice, safe place for you when you need it.”  
***

“Thanks.” Steve hummed, leaning back against Billy’s shoulder. Accepting the support.

“I mean, not that bad? I guess? I mean, I’m almost 19 – graduating. I guess it’s about time to move out anyways. He’s pretty pissed that I don’t want to go work for him because he ‘needs to keep an eye on me.’ Which like, that’s kind of a surprise, considering he’s fucked off the rest of the time but whatever. He says ‘no son of his is working in retail,’ when I mentioned the mall. I don’t see what’s so bad about it though. I mean, a sportings good store could be cool? I know a lot about that. Oh or men’s clothes? A record store! An old office job sounds so stuffy and boring, and like, my dad breathing down my neck through faxes and stuff? Yikes.” 

Steve shrugged a little moodily, sipping at his beer before he considered the weed. He’d brought it on purpose, because he’d kind of been planning on talking to Billy about stuff after what had gone on with his dad. About moving in. About Billy being ‘fucking lucky.’ He’d thought it might relax him a little like it used to. 

But honestly smoking weed wasn’t like fucking around on the swingset with Tommy back in the day, things were different now, Steve was different now. Now, it was a toss of the coin if it would relax him, or freak him the fuck out with paranoia. He’d found that out the hard way. Started hyperventilating about bugs in the television set and shit. Broke the TV. His parents had been pissed – that set was expensive. Steve took a long, contemplative drag, held it in, let it burn in his lungs. Coughed on the exhale, because well, it’d been a while. It’d been in that baggy for a while. Since the last time he’d been hanging around with Tommy H.  
***

“Could’ve asked me to bring good shit,” Billy said with a small smile as he watched Steve cough, making a gimme motion with his hand. “Not that I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth or anything.”

He took another drag, then a short one after, frowning out at the quarry. Mr. Harrington was an absolute piece of shit. Grade A Asshole, Steve had said once when he was feeling particularly loose lipped about it. What a fucking dick, taking Steve for granted. Not expecting anything good out of him when Steve was good, in and out. 

“Anything sounds better than a fucking office job with your dad,” he said, exhaling with his head tipped back. “Think you’d be just fine at anything that involved talking to other people, making them happy.”  
***

A hint of red colored beneath Steve’s collar of his t-shirt at the idea of working with people, being good at it, jacket left behind in the Beamer because it was too nice out for it. He handed over the blunt, waving a hand.

“Forgot it was so old. I grabbed it super last minute. I don’t even know where the hell you find ‘good shit’ here. In Hawkins?” Steve leaned back on his hands, locking his elbows as he gazed up at the sky – all muted, fading colors against the clouds as the sun dipped low over the horizon. It was real pretty, Steve thought. 

“And yeah? You think so? It’s kind of hard deciding what to do. Thought I’d be going to college, I guess, but – well. I’m glad that we’re both kind of taking a break. Starting out small. Getting our own place?” With a funny cat clock. Steve smiled dreamily up at the sky, closing his eyes as he felt the weed already starting to loosen his limbs. And he’d only had one hit. Maybe this would be a good time. Maybe he could talk about it. “You’re really good with people too, you know. You’ve got more charm than anybody I’ve ever seen.”  
***

“Mm, only when I want something,” Billy said with a shrug of his shoulder, jostling Steve a bit as he passed the blunt back. “You’d never know it, and this might come as a big shock—I really don’t like very many people. Like, maybe a handful. Wild, huh?”

He thought he was being pretty funny but refrained from saying heh at himself, set his head against Steve’s shoulder instead. He couldn’t pull off the dorky shit as good as his Steve could, better off brooding. Or smiling like an idiot against Steve’s shirt. 

“Getting our own place. Anyway, I think you’re just—you know,” he said, flapping his hand in the air vaguely. “You do like people. People like you, you’re likeable. Lovable even. You can go to college or not, either way you should do something with people, I think. You’re just all—bright and shiny and shit.”  
***

Steve couldn’t say he was used to the kind of compliments, assurances, Billy was throwing his way. He’d usually been pretty confident of himself throughout his high school career, especially, up until nancy. Until he stopped caring about that whole pyramid scheme and who was at the top and who had the throne. Where Billy was pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder, he tipped his chin to the side to press a soft kiss into sandy blonde curls, hiding a blush there. 

“Mmmh. Wild. Shocker. But well, I think you’re charming all the time. Whether you want something or not. And I think other people see that, too. Maybe not you know, in the exact same way I do, but…” Steve grinned a little against Billy’s hair, nosing against the soft hair – he liked it better when it wasn’t so crunchy like before. He was one to talk, with the amount of hairspray he had in his hair, but whatever.

“You think I’m loveable, huh?” Steve teased, but his tone immediate settled. “….Thanks. Thanks for thinking so. I do like people – I think I get along with people pretty well. Or at least I try to. You know, like if they don’t suck. A lot of people suck.” Steve frowned a little, his head feeling a little buzzy. Bright and shiny and shit. Billy thought he was bright and shiny? That’s what Steve thought of Billy. “I think you’re way shinier, than – well. Hey….Hey Billy.” 

Steve shifted a little, still leaned back on his hands. He stole the roach back from Billy to give a pull off of it, lashes fluttering before he handed it back. Let the smoke out through his nose after a minute. Tipping his chin down to watch a crazy looking beetle crawl across the gravel close to his hip. 

“Are you – sure you wanna move in? Like maybe if I, weren’t so bright and shiny?? Would you still wanna?”  
***

Billy waved off the blunt when it moved into his sight, wordlessly asking Steve to put it out. His limbs felt nice and heavy now and he couldn’t be bothered to do it, his arms hugging onto Steve’s like some treasured stuffed animal. Steve sounded almost—worried. 

“Well, yeah. Of course I would, I do,” he said with a frown, squishing his cheek into Steve’s shoulder as he looked up at him the best he could. “I know you aren’t all the time. I love you and—even when you’re not happy and bright and shiny, that doesn’t really make a difference.”  
***

Steve’s gaze slipped down to Billy’s blue one where he was trying to look up at Steve, and his heart gave a sweet little twist in his chest at how Billy had his cheek up against his arm. Holding onto him. He’d already snuffed the roach out, leaving it on the gravel by the beetle until he’d throw it away later. Leave no trace and all that from boy scouts. Even if it was just the quarry or whatever. 

Steve blinked down at him, a little line forming between his brows. He wasn’t sure how to even start this conversation.

According to Lucas, he’d corralled Max into some back room at the arcade like a total creep, lying about broken video games, even conning Keith into it for a date with Nancy (ugh.) Max had thought he was totally freakin’ nuts. Steve didn’t want Billy to think Steve was. And the problem was, that Steve wasn’t Lucas, or one of the kids – he actually understood the real implications of all that shit they’d signed. What he knew was dangerous – dangerous things happened around them, all of them, and he didn’t want Billy to get stuck in all of that shit, if it ever came back…

Steve compulsively glanced over his shoulder like somebody might be standing there, but there wasn’t anybody. And he’d picked a remote place to talk about it anyway, no bugs here, no phone conversation, no recording devices – Billy suggesting he Quarry had just been perfect. Steve’d even parked the car far away, because he didn’t know how much he could trust his own car either. 

Steve didn’t think he could tell him all the dirty details. But he at least wanted to somehow…warn him. Warn him that shacking up with Steve, well. It wasn’t just a problem because of his sometimes panic attacks, not turning off the lights, or spooking at the pool. About not being shiny or whatever, because he knew that Billy had his own set of things like that. And they could help each other through it. It was a nice thought – having someone there. All the time. Always. 

But there was a certain line that could be crossed where Steve would just sound batshit fucking crazy. Pennhurst crazy. Committable. Billy’d never talk to him again. But he should be aware. It wasn’t fair to him otherwise. He felt like he was lying to him in some way, because it was all such a massive part of Steve’s life - like this horrible, rotten core to his entire world. And Billy was in the dark.

“I love you too, but I...I don’t mean like, being happy, I. I don’t know what I mean. I’m not sure how…to talk to you about this.” Steve said slowly, lifting a hand from the gravel to chew at his thumbnail. It tasted like grape and dirt and burning from the joint. He dropped it again. He didn’t need to start that shit again. “Uh. You um. I just – I wanted to talk to you, about it, I know you…don’t like lying. I don’t know if it’s a lie by omission, maybe it is, but – “  
***

Billy felt the air change and frowned, still gazing up at Steve while his eyebrows slowly knitted together. He sounded super weird now, worried like a second ago but...different. He couldn’t really put his finger on it but Steve seemed guilty about something. It wasn’t like he meant to make his brain go right for it but he couldn’t help it, his mouth twisting up. 

“Did you cheat on me or something?” he asked, cheek still squished against Steve’s arm. He was a little too stoned to think about moving but maybe that was a good thing, no all encompassing anger to rest on, just—surprised. Resigned? He didn’t know.  
***

It took a minute for Steve to process, then he flinched like Billy’d slapped him, but sort of in slow motion, slowed by the drugs - staring down at him where he was still squished against him, pupils blown wide by the weed. Lashes fanned wide, too.

“What? No. Jesus, no, that’s – definitely not it, I…shit I…I dunno maybe we shouldn’t talk about it. Maybe this was a mistake.” He glanced over his shoulder again, looking at the treeline like some sketchy government goon was gonna be staring back between the pine branches. He didn’t know how Lucas had done this.  
***

“The fuck are you talking about then? Why are you all freaked out like that?” Billy asked, finally straightening up and looking over his shoulder too. Nothing was there, nothing at all. “Don’t—hey, don’t do that. Don’t fucking pull me out of the loop.”

The frown he had on his face was only half hearted now, dimmed down by his worst case scenario no longer an option. It was easy to believe Steve when he said that wasn’t it and while he was relieved it still didn’t do anything to get the swarm of bees out of his head. Maybe Steve—what? There wasn’t much he could imagine, not when they spent so much time together.  
***

The last sentence drew Steve back. Out of the loop. His attention steered back to Billy at that, and he seemed a little less randomly spooked. He nodded, and drew a single knee up to his chest, tucking one arm around it and leaned a little towards Billy. The other hand reached out to touch at Billy’s hand, barely fluttering fingertips to fingertips against the gravel. Just a brief touch to ground him. 

“Yeah, yeah no, you’re right, I don’t. I don’t want to…keep you out of the loop. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Before, you know. You’re kind of stuck with me? In the same house. All the time, or whatever.” It was one thing being alone all the time when nobody cared even if you were attacked by a monster or were being listened to through your freaking TV, but another thing entirely when you lived with someone. Some innocent bystander. 

But Steve still wanted to be able to live his life. He didn’t want to become some kind of weird, recluse hermit like that reporter guy Nancy and Jonathan were somehow friends with. Thinking he was being drugged by the government through the Wheaties boxes, so he made his own cereal kind of loopy.

“I’m sorry, I don’t – like I said, I just, I don’t know how to talk about it. But I’ll try. Okay? Don’t get mad? Please?”  
***

Billy could sort of follow Steve’s thought process. He probably thought getting stoned would make it easier to talk about—whatever it was he was trying to talk about. In actuality it made things move a little too slow for his liking, though Steve probably liked that. He knew what spazzy Steve looked like when he really got wound up, cute or not. 

Don’t get mad. He shook his head quickly to try and make it clear, finding Steve’s hand and making it a bit more than a slight touch. Then he nodded like some kind of go-ahead, bumping his knee into Steve’s. Waiting.  
***

Steve took Billy’s nod like a go ahead, and holding his hand helped. He still didn’t know what to say – he’d tried going over it a hundred times in his head before – trying to figure out what he needed to know vs. what he didn’t need to know, how vague he could possibly keep it while still making sense. Steve took a deep breath and nodded back. His fingers twisting up with Billy’s against the gravel.

“Okay, okay, alright. So. Okay. It…it has to do with last year. And before that, too? A year before that, it…it’s all kind of a mess. It had to do with that night at The Byers’.” Steve swallowed, throat clicking, gone tight with nerves. He started gesturing aimlessly with his free hand. “You know, with Max…I can’t honestly...say that much. I know this sounds, weird, but I’m maybe sort of? Legally gagged.” Steve winced. He already sounded crazy. “You can’t tell anybody I told you anything.”  
***

“Who the—Steve, I’m not a fucking middle aged woman looking to gossip,” Billy said, rolling his eyes a bit in a way not so different from the way Max did so often. Like he couldn’t believe somebody thought he was that dumb. 

When he looked at Steve though, he seemed dead serious. Legally gagged. Steve had to sign papers or some shit? For what? Did he accidentally kill a commie or some shit and the kids saw? Instantly he pictured Red Dawn, head tilting in confusion as he thought of Patrick Swayze-turned Steve Harrington. 

“Okay, okay. I’m not gonna tell anybody anything. Pinky swear.”  
***

Steve held out his free pinky like a gesture of good faith, a serious tilt to his mouth, eyes big and dark in the mostly dimmed light now. He didn’t like it out here now that it was getting dark. He wished they’d parked the car closer to have the lights on. But he had to stay this here or he wouldn’t say it. He had his doubts about the dome light or something, what was inside. Hopper’d really drilled that shit into his head.

“I know you wouldn’t gossip – but I mean, even if you were talking to like..Susan, or even Max. And the postman was at the door or something. You just – you can’t trust anyone in this town. I know it sounds nuts, I know I sound nuts, but – I’m not crazy. And like I said, I can’t…tell you everything. You just won’t believe me. But I want you to know – parts of it, enough to be able to make an ‘informed decision’ or whatever. About living with me. If things maybe aren’t shiny. Did you hear about the toxic leak at the lab? Here in town, last fall?”  
***

Billy wanted to tell Steve he wasn’t crazy the second he said it. Tell him he’d already made a decision about living with him, that he wanted to do it forever. Shake their little pinky promise with some conviction. But Steve was talking, actually talking, which was like pulling fucking teeth sometimes. Especially if Steve was upset about something. Damn near impossible. 

So he stayed quiet instead, just nodded at the question. He’d heard about it, figured it was just par for the course. Boring ass town with tidbits of information that made people think it was actually interesting.  
***

Steve’s voice dropped lower at Billy’s confirmation that yeah, yeah he did know of it. He lowered his voice like they were sharing in some kind of a secret, some kind of conspiracy, because they were. He leaned forward more, tilting their heads together, so that the words were just for their ears, not even the wind. 

“It’s about that. It’s about that girl that they said died. Her name was Barb. She was best friends with Nancy – I went to school with her. Since Kindergarten, actually. Tried to be nice to her….she uh, she died. She died in my pool. Alone. They said it was a chemical leak that killed her – but it wasn’t. It’s a lie. I saw what killed her, and that wasn’t it. It was something worse. Something bad. Something the government covered up, and got Will Byers lost for weeks, and we got tied up in paperwork that gagged all of us. That was, maybe a year and a half ago…then last fall? Last fall, it came back. Killed the pumpkins, killed the crops. Max, Max got dragged into it with the kids, and...I was just trying to keep them safe. I didn’t want you to have to get dragged into it, too. But now, I just…I needed to tell you. Because I still don’t want you to get dragged into it. Especially not if it comes back. But if, if the alternative is not having you in my life, I…” 

Steve chewed on his lip and looked away for a minute. He shrank into himself a little, against the darkness that was really starting to settle. The chirrups of crickets starting up. There was still enough light to see by, but, just enough. A million stars above them. He tried to think about how small his problems were.

“It’s dangerous. The government is all over this place, with their fingers in everything, and they’re watching. Listening. Them and the lab. And it’s…it’s just fucking dangerous. And messed up. I’m messed up. And you need to know that. People died. They’ve threatened my family - they could threaten you. And I don’t know if I’m all the way okay, all the time.”  
***

Billy did look over his shoulder then, like he could picture exactly what Steve might be so afraid of. Eyes and ears all over, threats to Steve’s family. Threats to him maybe. If it had been anyone else telling this to him he would’ve told them to fuck off and show him proof, but too many little lines connected in his head. 

The weird bullshit lies Max told when she’d finally come home. The fact that they stole his car that night, like they’d needed to get somewhere quick. The drawings that he’d seen when he’d woken up in that living room. Like some kind of tunnel system. The lights always being on and Steve waking up next to him breathing like he’d ran a marathon sometimes. It made no sense at all, but it did. 

Some girl died in Steve’s pool and that’s why it was empty, not some chemical in the water. He could see on Steve’s face that it was true, even if none of it seemed real. Boring ass town, huh. 

“I—I know you need to keep the lights on all the time,” he said after a few minutes of silence, eyes turning back to Steve. “Our utility bills are going to be wild, but we can keep the lights on. All day and all night, the heat too. I know sometimes you can’t sleep and that sometimes you just watch me sleep instead, you think I don’t notice. Like you’re standing guard. You can—the lights will be on and it’ll be warm. When you need to do it.”  
***

Steve’s lashes lifted up in the dim light, focusing on Billy’s eyes – the flash of blue, the way he looked like he believed him, or maybe trusted him? When he finally looked back at Steve. Steve bit at his lip, leaning towards Billy with one hand on the gravel, bits of rock biting into his palm, but the warmth of Billy’s fingers interlocked with his own. 

The words were, somehow a balm to the fear and anxiety that Steve had been harboring about this moment – perhaps for months. Perhaps since the very second he’d kissed Billy Hargrove, and known he was done for. That moment that had to, eventually, arrive. 

And he hadn’t realized that Billy had caught him staring, on those nights when he couldn’t sleep. When the shadows seemed darker than normal, playing on the ceiling from the trees outside the window.

“…you noticed that?” Steve sighed, smiling a little, but it was a brief, unlasting thing. “And…yeah, I dunno. The thing, that I mentioned, it – it likes it when it’s cold. Sometimes when I get, sort of jumpy – it makes me feel better. I’m so glad it’s summer, it’ll be hot soon, everyday. You…you believe me? You’re sure you don’t want to change your mind?”  
***

Billy nodded quickly and without any hesitation, squeezing Steve’s hand. It was—bizarre, that was one way to put it. Weren’t a lot of ways he could rationally explain what the fuck Steve was talking about. He believed Steve, though maybe more because it was clear Steve believed it. It sounded insane but Steve wasn’t, he loved Steve. Besides—

“You know, my mom—she was super fucking New Age. Had like, crystals in her vanity and listened to tapes on metaphysics or some shit like that in the car when Neil wasn’t in it,” he said, looking out at the water a moment before giving Steve a soft look, a kind smile. “I can handle weird, even shit I can’t wrap my head around.”

I loved her still, I love you still.  
***

Steve’s eyebrows lifted up a little in interest, squeezing Billy’s hand right back. “Really? Like from the sixties? That’s so cool. I think there’s a lot of stuff out there that, you know, we don’t really understand. I wish I’d been able to meet her. And, yeah…I don’t know if anybody could wrap their head around some of this stuff. I can’t, obviously.” Steve crossed the last amount of space between them to brush their noses together, foreheads touching, dark lashes slipping closed as he let out a long breath through parted lips. It sounded like relief, had his shoulders sagging with it. 

“Thank you. Thank you for believing me. Or at least handling the weird. I’ll take either, as long as you’re sure. I love you. So much.”  
***

“Mhm, love you too,” Billy said, smiling ear to ear all over again. Steve didn’t sound worried anymore and that was enough to smooth his shoulders out, have him hugging onto Steve’s arm with a sigh of his own. “She would’ve really liked you, I think. She had these awful, awful macrame seat covers in her hippie bug. Probably would’ve been one of those old weirdos with shells glued to their car.”

His mouth tipped to the side at the idea but he just hugged Steve’s arm again, looking up at the sky getting darker and darker. Seemed like time to go, and even if Steve didn’t sound worried he could definitely get jumpy. So he stood them up, still hugging Steve’s arm all the way back to the Beamer, only letting go at the last second.  
***

Steve smiled, tipping his head against Billy’s shoulder as he hung onto Steve’s arm. Tightening his hold so that he was holding Billy against him, linked arm in arm. He was glad they were headed back to the car – even if they’d parked a little far. Well, Steve’d parked far, on purpose. It seemed a little too far, now.

“I like when you talk about her. It’s like getting to know her, bit by bit. Just the small things.” Steve said. He remembered before, on the anniversary of when she’d died – when he’d told Billy that he thought he should try to talk about her. Remember her. Not black it out. He was happy to see it worked, even just a little.

When they got to the car, Steve slid into the drivers side of the BMW, and the glow of the dash was a comfort, flicking on the lights, too.  
***

Billy shrugged a little bashfully, sparing Steve another smile while he settled into his seat. So they were definitely, definitely moving in together. Steve had asked him if he was sure and now he knew. Well, maybe Steve didn’t know just how sure he was, but he would someday. He’d try to make him see it. 

“You coming back to mine or just dropping me back?” he asked, flicking the radio on and keeping it at a low hum, watching the quarry get further off. “You can start just leaving stuff there if you want, unless you’re going for a dramatic reveal.”  
***

Steve flicked his hair a little as he drove like a proper drama queen and grinned over at Billy. “Of course dramatic reveal. Have you met me? But hey – I mean, we don’t have to like…I mean, we don’t have to do it right away. I don’t really want to crash the party at the trailer with Susan and Max, I mean…maybe we can start looking for a little apartment? And get ready for that? Sometime soon. I want to get a job first, make sure I have my own income first.” 

Steve nodded, made it sound like he had given it some thought really. “Oh and uh, I guess dropping you back? If it’s okay. I should probably head back to the house, talk to my mom about the game.”  
***

“Of course it’s okay,” Billy said, playing a bit with the lock on the door. He wondered if it’s what Max felt like when she tried to fuck around in the Camaro, dug his tongue into his cheek as he flicked it up and down a few times in a row. Steve’s reaction wasn’t as entertaining though so he stopped, resting the side of his head on the window. 

He’d nearly forgotten about the game, so happy with Steve that everything else sort of stopped mattering. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, if Bea would call that healthy. Already he was bumming out about having to skip a week with her, graduation day coming extremely close to fruition. Maybe he’d just have more to talk to her about in two weeks, maybe they’d be a little closer to—he didn’t know, since Steve wanted to wait. Not crash the party.  
***

Steve kept his eyes on the road and snuck his hand across the console to hold Billy’s hand, like it was as natural and easy as anything, a practiced gesture. His eyes were all lit up bright by the dash lights as he hummed a little to a broken line of chorus – in a good mood, feeling like the weight of it was off of his shoulders. Now they only had things to look forward to. But – but. Steve’s humming took a pause as he glanced at Billy, before looking back to the road again.

“Hey – um, I was wondering…why was your automatic assumption that I’d cheated on you or something? I mean, I’ll admit, it maybe wasn’t my smoothest explanation…lying by omission or whatever, but…I mean, when you asked me about the nuclear family thing, before - are you still worried about that, or something? You just sounded so…” Steve canted his head as if searching for the right word. He sounded so, what? Sure? Expectant? Resigned, somehow. “Sure. You know I’d never do anything like that, right?”  
***

Billy glanced at Steve but not for long, trying to hold on to the sound of him humming instead. Maybe if he looked out the window long enough Steve would forget about the question he was asking. Things had been nice, the whole day even. Winning the game, the shower, Steve comfortable enough to tell him something he’d obviously been holding in. 

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know. You know how shit happens,” he said, idly playing with Steve’s fingers in lieu of jiggling his knee. “I don’t think you’re—I know you’re a really good guy. You’re like, -the- Good Guy.”  
***

Steve’s eyebrows lifted a little at that, and he lifted Billy’s hand up to his lips, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. 

“-The- Good Guy, huh?” He asked, smiling against Billy’s scarred skin. Well, he didn’t know about that. Billy should have met him a couple years ago. But he was trying to be good. And either way, cheating was never, and never would be, a part of his makeup. 

“And…well, okay, just wanted to make sure you knew - I’d never. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’m pretty crazy about you. I even heard we’re moving in together.” Steve nosed once against his fingers before he settled their connected hands back against Billy’s denim clad thigh.  
***

Billy smiled hard at the Steve Harrington treatment, nose wrinkling. Yes, just like that, he thought but didn’t say. He looked down at the hand holding his, how it still managed to look big even against his thigh. His free hand came to rest on top, wiggling each of Steve’s fingers a little, over and over again. 

“I know you are, I do,” he said, nodding down at Steve’s knuckles, jostling them a bit as his knee finally jiggled. “It would be alright though. I mean, if it did. I get it, or I would. It’s not a big deal.”  
***

Steve smiled a little at the way Billy was tweaking each of his fingers, easily driving left handed as he let Billy play with his right one. But he got distracted by what Billy said next, and felt Billy’s knee start to jump beneath his knuckles. Like when he got nervous. Usually Steve would soothe a palm over it to try and ease his nerves, but this time he just sort of glanced over at Billy, blinking in something like confusion. Brow knitting together as he wondered if maybe he’d heard wrong. He didn’t like the look on Billy’s face - this flat sort of look. This cardboard look.

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice somewhat slow. “How could that possibly be alright? ….cheating is a big deal. At least to me.”  
***

“I don’t know,” Billy said, watching his leg bounce, watching Steve’s hand sort of bounce with it. “I mean, I wouldn’t do that. I don’t do that. But I mean if you got—I don’t know. If you got bored or just kinda...fed up. I’d get it, and it would be fine. I’m an acquired taste.”

Maybe a year ago he would’ve said it with a sneer and a broken bottle. Now, after everything, it felt more like laying hard truths down. Uncomfortable but necessary. If they were going to live together he should be as honest as possible too, match Steve’s from tonight. Give him some extra warning.  
***

Steve’s fingers flinched a little in Billy’s hand, and he was going over what Billy had just said several times in his mind. “….bored.” Steve said. “Or fed up.”

He untwined his fingers from Billy’s so that he could press his palm against his thigh instead, long fingers stretched out as he gave a few long pets against the denim. But then his hand went still so he could keep speaking. Eyes on the road only. The trailer was really fucking far from the quarry, way over on Lover’s Lake.

“So…hang on. I see what you’re saying, I just – don’t get it. You’re saying you wouldn’t do it, but, what, that if I’m feeling particularly uninspired on a Sunday afternoon, or, or we get into a fight or something – like, at prom…what, it’s okay for me to just go fuck around with somebody? And you’d be totally cool with that.”  
***

“I—do we really have to talk about this right now?” Billy asked, about as close to begging as he was ever going to get without actually sounding that desperate at all. 

He sounded brusque and he knew it, had a hard time getting a handle on it even with the big palm warming his thigh still. His other knee started to jiggle then, like it was making up for lost fucking time while he thought about prom. Fucking up as bad as he had. How, honestly, he’d been surprised that Steve hadn’t done anything. 

“I’m not an idiot, you know,” he said with a frown, his tone lighter thanks to some honest to god mental wrestling with himself. “I know that you’re slumming it with me. I don’t care, obviously I don’t care because I’m in love with you. Maybe you’ll get sick of it once in a while is all and need to like, get out of the gutter for a night. It’s—I don’t really think we should talk about this.”  
***

Steve’s hand withdrew to his side of the car then, blinking rapidly at the road in confusion as he tried to wrap his head around what the hell Billy was saying.

“I – hey, no, wait a second – you can’t just lay something like that on me and then say we shouldn’t talk about this. Like you said earlier, don’t keep me out of the loop, either. I – that’s what you think? You think I’m slumming it with you? In the gutter? You – babe, I…I don’t know how you can think so little of yourself? I mean, I…” 

He did, though. He did understand. He knew what Billy had gone through, or at least, he had a very vague idea of it, and none of it was good. PTSD. Bea had said Billy had PTSD. It was that bad. Like what guys got from War, or like what Will got from being in the Upside Down for a week. Stuff that really messed you up. And Billy’s dad was bad news. Steve had seen how Billy was with him in the parking lot – cowering. He thought of how Neil had talked about ‘putting him out of his misery.’ The way Billy woke up screaming. How could you think much of yourself when your own dad tried to kill you?

“You’re so much more than you think. I’m not slumming it with you, Billy. I’m in love with you.” His throat worked around the last sentence, feeling a little tight. A sudden, sharp knot of hurt forming in his breast that Billy thought Steve would do that. “You’re smart, and fun, and funny, you make me laugh. You’re charming and sweet and thoughtful and – and we’re a great team, on the court and off, and…you’re kind of everything to me. I want to be with you all the time. Live with you, remember? Love isn’t taking a break for a night, or when you get bored, or bicker. Love takes work. Love means not fucking around with some random person when you’re already with someone. I’m with you. I’m yours.”  
***

Billy remembered telling Steve he was out of his element once, a little while back. He hadn’t known quite what to do with the gentle affection and had felt his brain short circuiting. The information had bumped up hard against what he’d been storing away for most of his life and it just didn’t make sense. Love wasn’t something he had any real experience with since his mother, nothing light and sweet until Steve. 

Love was disorienting and bizarre even if he felt it for Steve a million times over. It meant Steve wouldn’t wisen up to the situation he was in, saddled with Billy and coasting along until something better appeared. The thought of having to reconcile that with himself was terrifying, more than. 

“Mine,” he said, playing with the spot on his jeans where Steve’s hand had been, listening to the sound of the car pulling up and stopping at the trailer. “I—okay, mine. Each other’s.”  
***

Steve finished rubbing at his eyebrow as he pulled the Beamer in the drive and threw it into park. He let it idle for a minute, though, as he reached across the console once more, but also leaned a little with his body. Far enough to gently catch Billy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and angle his face back to Steve. To get his eyes back on him. His voice was soft when he spoke again, as soft as his fingers on Billy’s stubble.

“Hey. I’m serious. I’m serious, okay? I love you. I want to be with you. And I meant it that night when we had hot chocolate – I’ll love you, be with you, unless at some point you decide you don’t love me anymore, want me to stop. So unless that happens, I’m only with you. It’s not okay to cheat with somebody else – and I really hope you don’t think I’m actually the kind of person that would.”  
***

Billy’s breath caught for a split second before smoothing out, like Steve’s fingers were a balm on an old wound. Neil had always liked grabbing for his face to get his attention, but this wasn’t that. Where before there were fingers digging harshly into his jawbone and squishing his face up, these were soft, just a tiny bit of redirection. Getting him to pay attention to what Steve was saying. Every year, any time. 

He nodded along and that was different too, that he could move his face at all. That Steve was telling him it wasn’t okay for Steve to step out on him. That he’d love him as long as he could. 

“I’ll try, I can try,” he said with a hard swallow, trying to gather up all the things he’d torn up in his head, making a pile, trying to clean it up. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. Not ever. I think—you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met. I can try...to think about deserving that. I can try.”  
***

“Well I think you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met. Acquired taste or not. And you deserve everything – probably better than me, really. But I don’t want to give you up, don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you either.” 

Steve covered the last of the distance between them, pressing a chaste, simple kiss to Billy’s mouth. That little fuzz of a moustache tickling his upper lip, fingers nocked under his chin.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “And we won’t live in a gutter. We’ll find a nice place, I promise, and we’ll never want to leave. It’ll be our place.”  
***

Billy thought about their nice place the rest of the week, used it to occupy his mind through the slog of his last few days of high school. A place of their own, somewhere safe and warm with all the lights on for Steve, somewhere he could try. Somewhere he could really feel like himself, the bullshit of high school finally behind them. 

It came to a head on graduation day, two hours of being able to sit right next to Steve in his cap and gown, hold his hand between their chairs and not give a shit who saw. He was able to give Mrs. Murphy a parting message as he shook her hand, able to watch her shock and offense spread all the way across her face before he grinned and hopped down. Able to hear Max screeching and cheering, see Steve beaming at him like he was proud. 

He got invited to Steve’s graduation party and nearly didn’t go, only swayed by Max wanting to join in on ribbing Steve and seeing her beloved boyfriend there. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Steve, that wasn’t it, never it. More the fact that Steve’s father would be there in all his shitty and disapproving glory. Getting stoned while Max bolted out of the Camaro dulled his stress somewhat, though something was looming over him that he couldn’t quite place. 

He let himself in the way he’d seen Max do, his high making him feel all floaty and warm, shirt barely buttoned and leather jacket under his arm. There were more people than he’d ever seen in that house, all adults Billy had never seen before, all chatting and cackling with each other. Outside he could hear the kids talking—well, yelling, and followed the sound.  
***

Steve was laying in a lawn chair a ways away from the pool – which was now filled, since his parents were back, and it was finally May. Summer time, practically. The kids were all swarmed around him as he sipped at a champagne that some random weird waiter guy kept handing out to people, even if Steve wasn’t technically of age yet. But his dad said they’d just changed the legal drinking age two years ago, and it used to be eighteen, so whatever. Steve was feeling a little warm and bubbly and he never had to do schoolwork or write an essay ever again and it was amazing. The kids were also out of school now, and they were carrying on about plans for the next week. Steve sipped at his champagne flute and stared at them and just sort of nodded along for whatever crazy plan they were scheming up. 

“Camping! We could go camping!” Max exclaimed.

“Uh, I really don’t want to go out in the woods.” Will said, nose wrinkling.

“Yeah, insensitive much, zoomer?” Mike butted in. 

“Hey she didn’t mean it like that,” Steve said. 

“Yeah there’s probably nothing more than raccoons out there. I’ll bring my wrist rocket. We’ll be safe.”  
Lucas puffed his chest out.

“Camping is a summer thing. I mean I know it’s in the woods but – “Max frowned.

“It’s summer. It’s hot. Nothing’s gonna happen.” Steve shook his head. “My parents have a cabin we could stay at, so we could go inside. Pop a tent outside, and if Will needs to go inside, he can. With me, ‘cause that’s where I’ll be. Everybody wins.” Steve sipped his champagne and pushed his Ray-Ban’s up on his nose, pulled at his tie knot. It was too tight.  
***

“Your ‘rents have a fucking cabin?” Billy asked as he walked up, eyebrows raised slowly. Everything was moving kind of slowly but he liked it, even when his frown was slow looking at the pool. Steve never filled that thing. “I tried to take Max to the Redwoods once but she said the drive was too long. Hi, handsome.”

He parked himself in the lawn chair next to Steve and offered him a lopsided smile, humming happily when some stuffy looking dick offered him a flute of champagne. It disappeared in just seconds and he set it on the tray again before the guy could even leave, beaming ear to ear. Rich people were great, they had no fucking sense at all.  
***

Steve smiled up at Billy real sweetly, obviously stoked that Billy was there – perking up immediately. 

“Hey!” Calling him ‘handsome.’ Jesus Steve loved that. “I didn’t know you were coming. You’re here.” 

He glanced at Max once in like an accusation that she didn’t TELL him Billy had dropper her off. She just shrugged at him. But well, it made sense. He guessed he didn’t know if she’d come with one of the kids from graduation or like, boarded from the school, or – well. He’d maybe had a little too much champagne. As Billy settled down next to him, Steve tilted his head to the side to smile at him, feeling a little goofy.

“Yeah, they do. It’s pretty backwoods, maybe an hours drive from Hawkins. We used to go there when I was little.” He realized Billy looked a little glazed – stoned maybe. And adding on the champagne could only make it better. Steve hummed and closed his eyes, happier than ever that Billy was here. “Redwoods, huh? I heard they’re as big as houses.”  
***

“Bigger than that, dude. They’re older than the dinosaurs,” Billy said, eyes big even though Steve couldn’t see it. His eyelashes were just so pretty he couldn’t stop staring at them until Max rudely cleared her throat. “Can I help you?”

Max rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything further, Steve’s father closing in out of the corner of his eye. Definitely a good idea for him to have gotten stoned. Dealing with this guy sober wouldn’t have worked, not one bit. 

“Hi, Mr. Harrington,” he said with a shit eating grin, holding his hand out in his best Leave it to Beaver impression. He swore Max was trying not to laugh but he just kept smiling, hand still out expectantly. “Some party you’ve got for Steve here. Real nice.”  
***

“I fucking love dinosaurs.” Steve admitted to him. He thought he’d like to see those. The edges of his notebooks were fool of dinosaur doodles. 

As his dad came over, Steve visibly wilted in his seat, taking another sip of his champagne. He needed a topper. The kids were all drinking sparkling cider out of crystal party cups, his mom’s matching set. 

All of the kids watched between Billy and Steve’s dad like they were watching some kind of a tennis match, waiting to see who would explode first.

Grant Harrington didn’t take the offered hand. He kept his hands buried in the pockets of his crisp navy blue suit, an eyebrow slowly raising, his hair – so much like Steve’s, but clean cut around the sides and neck, slicked back today for the occasion. It made him look that much more severe.

“Yes. Nice. I see you found yourself suited to attend?” 

“C’mon dad, I invited him.” Steve groaned into his drink. “Please don’t.”

“Steven. We discussed this.”

“No we didn’t? Like at all? This really isn’t the time to talk about this again. Or like, ever. I wanted him here.”  
***

“So that’s why I am, because I’m actually around when Steve wants me to be,” Billy said, a pleasant smile still on his face and something a little more poisonous in his gut. “Is Mrs. Harrington around? She’s about ten times more pleasant than you. Maybe I’ll look for her.”

He swung up out of the lawn chair and used the hand he’d meant to shake Mr. Harrington’s with to pat him on the arm. What he was picturing was shoving him right into the pool and fucking his hair up, his stiff looking suit, that smarmy look on his face. 

“I’ll be right back, yeah?” he said, looking at Steve and shutting his father’s reaction out of his line of sight, eyebrows raised just a bit in question. “Just wanna say hi. You good?”  
***

Something warm and sudden flooded Steve’s veins at Billy’s comment about around when Steve wanted him to be. Unlike somebody. Some people. Like Billy said - he wouldn’t leave Steve alone anymore. He was following through with it, and that was more than most people could say.

Grant flinched and took a step back when Billy slapped him on the arm – like he was somehow contagious with something, like he didn’t want to be touched by him. Steve felt something red and hot pass behind his eyes and he was sitting up in his seat. Setting the champagne aside even as the world tilted a little around him. He rose unsteadily to his feet, nodding at Billy. The kids had gone eerily quiet.

“Yeah, yeah – she wanted to see you, she asked about you after the ceremony.” He stepped closer to his dad, hissing under his breath as Billy started to step away. “He graduated today too, what you should be doing is congratulating him, not being – being – “  
“Steven you drop that tone with me. You know how hard your mother and I worked to get everything set up today, all of our friends are here, and you’re parading around your -- ” He made some kind of vague hand gesture, at a loss for a word.

“Yeah I’m so glad your friends are here, why don’t you go mingle with them, and I’ll stick with mine and my boyfriend.” Steve provided the word for him.

Steve stepped back away from his dad and jerked his head at the kids to follow him and they lined up like little ducklings behind him as he caught up to Billy, only a few steps behind him.  
***

Billy scanned the crowd while he walked in slow motion, aware of the people beginning to follow him. It was a nice feeling, people who cared about him and Steve willing to follow behind, trail after because maybe he’d done something right. When he saw Cynthia that was nice too, watching her beam and move towards him with her arms outstretched. 

“Billy, you look so handsome! Congratulations,” she said, pulling him in for a tight hug, limbs a little loose with drink. “What ever did you say to put that expression on principal Murphy’s face?”

“Now, I can’t really tell you that,” he said with a shake of his head, looking over at Steve mischievously before turning the charm on again. “I’d like to stay in at least one of Steve’s parents’ good graces.”  
***

Steve tried not to feel pissy after talking to his dad, but that was usually easier said than done. But it felt like the farther they moved away from him, the easier it got. Max scowling over her shoulder at his dad like looks could kill. But he wanted to do this best to make Billy feel comfortable. Billy deserved the party too, not just Steve. He’d graduated at the top of their class, and he deserved to be celebrated.

“He does look handsome, huh? And I was wondering the same thing.” Steve smiled, placing his hands in his pockets a little eerily like his dad, but it was because he was wearing a suit with an itchy collar and he was uncomfortable. And that was you thing you did in a suit – stuffed your hands in your pockets. “The look on Murphy’s face was priceless.”  
***

Billy mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key, lips still closed but smiling when Cynthia gave him a half hearted smack to his arm. She seemed a little sauced but he would’ve done the same thing if he were her, if he was married to Steve’s dad. He caught the hand aiming to give him another little smack and kissed her knuckles instead, like some apology for the mundane life she seemed like she was caught in. 

“Just wanted to say hi to you while you were in town,” he explained, letting her hand go to settle it at Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t really foresee any more dinners in our future but—thank you. That’s what I mean to say.”

“Not in any way necessary,” Cynthia replied with a shake of her head, looking between the boys fondly, resting it finally on her son’s face. “I’m very proud of both of you. Not just for your graduation. You’re very, very brave.”  
***

The kids had scattered when it was apparent Steve wasn’t going to entertain them anymore, heading to the h’orderves table to load up little snack plates.

Steve took a step closer to Billy, making a bit of his face when Billy kissed his mom’s hand – he knew it was all kind hearted but still, it was his mom, so gross. 

He blushed a little at his mom’s compliment to both of them, when her dark eyes came to rest upon his face, like she was communicating to him telekinetically or something.

“Thanks, mom. Billy’s the brave one. He’s always the brave one. And I mean, we could still have dinner – when we get our own place, we’ll invite you, mom.” 

He’d already talked to his parents about it – about the job – about getting a place – his dad had had a fit. He said he was cutting Steve off if he did that, totally, cold turkey. It was why Steve needed to make sure to have a job and income before he left.  
***

“I would love that,” Cynthia said, the smile on her face getting wobbly, a misty eyed look coming over her. She waved her hand in front of her face like she was swatting a fly, seemingly exasperated. “No no, my face took ages to put on. I am not crying in front of those wretched PTA women.”

Billy cackled at that, was still laughing when she leaned in for a goodbye hug. Then he watched her move for Steve, the hug she gave her son significantly longer, like she was trying to latch on to something. He saw her say something in Steve’s ear but didn’t want to look nosey, stepped back a bit and only waved when she left. 

“What do you feel like doing?” he asked, swiping another flute from a tray and tilting his head at it before focusing again. “You doing alright after your dad?”  
***

Steve’s shoulders eased when his mom hugged him all close, and he could smell her magnolia perfume, and she was whispering in his ear how much she loved him, not to worry about his dad. He knew she was right. It’s just, he was used to him treating Steve like shit, but he wasn’t used to him treating Billy like shit. Not in person, to his face. It just really worked him up. He just wanted Billy to have all good things, be treated fairly and well after having such a rough go of life. His dad flinching away from his touch was not that. Steve hated it. 

“Love you, mom.” Steve murmured back at her, kissing her on the cheek as she drew away. “You still look beautiful, don’t even worry.”

He waved back at her as she walked away, and stole another champagne flute too to down like half of it. Fizzy all the way down. “Me? Yeah I’m okay, I just – are you okay? I’m really sorry. He shouldn’t treat you that way, act that way towards you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just – sorry. I’m really, really glad you’re here. Thank you.” Steve tilted his head in thought, gazing at Billy trough his lashes as he considered. “Doing? I dunno. Wanna blow this popstand and go listen to music in my room?” 

Social niceties dictated that Steve should be mingling with guests and making small talk and thanking the guests for showing up. Asking about their kids or whatever. But Steve’s dad clearly had that under control with his own friends, and well. 

“Listening to music?” Dustin asked, seeming to pop up out of nowhere, chewing on a shrimp. “Tubularrr! Like what?”  
***

“You know, somehow I don’t think we’re invited,” Max said, making a face at the way Dustin was eating as she sidled up to them. “Think we’d have more luck trying to push Mike into the pool.”

Billy gave her a grateful look before turning his sights on Steve, thinking on what he’d said. It wasn’t a big deal, or at least it wasn’t right now. He’d mostly settled it with himself that Grant Harrington was never going to warm up to him and at the very least he thought he was trailer trash. It wasn’t a new feeling, but watching Steve’s discomfort was something else. 

“You don’t have to say sorry, and you don’t have to thank me,” he said sternly, wishing he could press a kiss to Steve’s cheek without a backyard full of yuppies having a fucking heart attack. “Sounds nice, listening to music. You feel like leading the way?”

***

“Um rude. But okay yeah, I guess so, that does seem apparent -now-.” 

“Don’t push anybody in the pool. I mean it, assholes.” Steve directed, sternly glancing at them and waving a hand at them.

“Why are you wax on wax offing us, Steve? You’re already ditching us here! Jonathan doesn’t even come to get us for like twenty more minutes.” 

“I’m not ditching you. I’m taking a breather. I’ll be back, okay? And I’m serious, no pool. Leave it alone.” Steve shook his head as they ran off looking for Mike. They were gonna be the death of him. 

He turned back to Billy, nodding eagerly. “Yeah! I can, let’s go. I got a new cassette the other day downtown, I think you’ll like it.” He snagged Billy’s hand and led him back into the house through the sliding glass doors. He felt better being inside, summer or not. He brought them upstairs, taking the steps a few at a time until they were in his room, the door locked behind them to stop any of the rugrats from following. It was blessedly quiet in here compared to the noise downstairs. 

“Yikes what a shitshow with my dad. I can’t wait to move.” Steve shook his head, squeezing Billy’s hand tight before he wandered over to the boombox. He started fiddling with opening the cassette and flipping it to side A, loosening his tie with the other hand. “Can’t believe we’re done, you know? Graduated.”  
***

Billy threw his jacket on the ground and stretched out on the bed, taking the busy wallpaper in. It had been a little while since he’d gotten to be here but nothing could make him forget the plaid puke all over the walls. 

“Yeah, me either. It’s weird, all that build up and all that time put into something that’s just...over now,” he said, staring up at the ceiling with a frown. “Wonder how much I aged myself trying to be normal so long, Jesus. Guess now I just get to do what my mom used to say—let my freak flag fly.”

There was another short twinge in his chest but he ignored it and stretched his arms above his head, haphazardly kicking his boots off his feet and to the floor. He rolled onto his stomach to look at Steve, shirt fanned out on either side of him. 

“Can’t wait for you to move either, what a prick. Like he was gonna catch it from me,” he said with a roll of his eyes, legs kicking. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna be so happy when you get out.”  
***

Steve winced a little at the street clothes on the bed, but tried not so any anything as the new Smiths tape Meat is Murder started to play. Steve settled down on the bed alongside Billy, sitting up close to his head, with both legs hanging over the side of the mattress. He let his fingers slip through the crevasses of Billy’s hair to tickle at the nape of his neck, below the collar of his half open shirt. Tracing little circles into his skin. 

“Yeah I definitely didn’t think you were seventeen when I met you. Like twenty, maybe.” He teased for a moment, before his voice softened. “You’ve been talking about her a lot lately. Don’t forget, I’ll be there tomorrow, noon at the latest. And I’ll stay with you all day.” He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of Billy’s head. 

“And I dunno...he’s such a tool. I don’t get it, jesus. Can’t believe he was such a prick to you. And….yeah. Yeah, it’s like, like this is this whole new start to the rest of our lives.”  
***

“Have I?” Billy asked, though he didn’t really want to talk about it, tried to make sure his tone said as much. “I can totally believe it, by the way. You get all your sweet from Cynthia.”

He waggled his eyebrows for a moment before setting his chin on his forearms and closing his eyes. The rest of their lives. A new start, one that started the second Billy got to tell Murphy to go fuck herself. Not too bad of a beginning, he guessed. 

“I don’t know if I’m gonna make it that long tonight, if that’s okay,” he said, tilting his head a bit to give Steve more of his neck. “I’m kinda beat. You want me to stay until the brats get picked up though? Make sure you get some kind of quiet time?”  
***

“ Ugh gross please never call my mom Cynthia like that ever again.” Steve wrinkled his nose, before it immediately smoothed out. “Mmm quiet time with you is my favorite. If you wouldn’t mind, I wouldn’t mind.” He toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket, which he folded neatly and put on the nightstand. 

Then he curled up alongside Billy like an overgrown puppy, nosing into his arm where it was folded under his chin. Attaching to his side, all searching arms and a leg tucked over Billy’s thighs. Street clothes and all, if you could consider a nice suit street clothes. But he just needed a little cuddle time to tide him over.

“Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe fifteen minutes? You can rest your eyes for a minute if you want – I can wake you up. We did get up at the ass crack of dawn.”  
***

“However long you want, sweetheart,” Billy said, tugging Steve close and planting a kiss on the top of his floppy hair. Nothing like his father’s in that way, not tonight. “I love you. Happy graduation.”

Just like he’d predicted, it took less than those aforementioned fifteen minutes for Steve to fall asleep, soft snores in his ear. He guessed it took another fifteen for him to extricate himself without jostling him, then another handful he used just to watch. He wondered if Steve saw something like this all those nights he kept watch; a face he loved slack with sleep, lines of worry nowhere to be seen. It took a lot for him to leave. 

When he did he told the kids not to bug Steve upstairs and gave Max another second to say goodbye to her boyfriend. Long gone were the days when he would’ve been buzzing with anxiety by the Camaro, turned quickly to rage. Well, not that long gone, but still fucking gone. 

He was pretty beat but he didn’t go right to sleep, didn’t actually go to sleep at all. He dropped Max off at home and spent hours driving around, the heat blasted and the windows all the way down just like he liked, the best way to clear his head. Only it wasn’t working. That twist in his chest just kept getting bigger the darker the sky became until he was staring at a sunset from his spot in front of the trailer. 

The Camaro was nearly out of gas so he went to fill up, ignoring the flash of 6:20 burning into his eyes. After that it was sort of like working on auto pilot, stumbling into Melvald’s and swiping up a bouquet of flowers, two of them, not thinking about why. He got into the trailer much the same way, watching himself put the first bouquet in a vase, watching himself write Susan a note that he couldn’t pay attention to much. Once he got a look at the second bouquet in his hands he had no choice at all because his legs stopped working, his back hitting the fridge while he tried to make himself breathe, tried not to make a fuss. 

He still ended up waking Susan and Max, saw them in his peripherals, saw the bouquet all fucked up and shaking in his hand too. They were talking but he couldn’t hear them, pushed himself up and hugged the wall all the way to the bathroom, only leaving the door unlocked because his fingers weren’t working right.  
***

Steve got to the trailer at the edge of Lover’s Lake earlier than planned. Once Brunch finished up with his mom and dad for Mother’s Day at her favorite restaurant downtown, he headed back to the house when they left for the airport. He was planning on getting to Billy’s at about noon – but a phone call from Max from the other end got him there faster.

Apparently she’d been trying to call, before, but he didn’t get it until he walked in, and also got scolded for not having his walkie on him when a party member was in need. CODE RED, STEVE. When he got to the trailer, he was in a jumbled hurry and almost tripped on the stairs getting to the front door. Max was already there to meet him.

“Took you long enough, asshole. Congratulations I’m 90 years old.” Max snapped at him, all irritation, shoulders around her ears.

“Shit, I’m sorry Max – I – what’s happening? Where is he?”

Max nodded over her shoulder, and led him through the trailer to the wood paneled bathroom, which had the door closed. 

“He’s in the bathroom?”

“Yeah. In the tub.”

“….taking a bath?”

“NO STEVE DON’T BE STUPID JUST GO DO YOUR STEVE THING. Make it better.”

Steve stared at her, a little flabbergasted and non plussed at being called stupid (she had said the tub, right?), but nodded, swallowing as he got the door open and ducked his head inside. All he saw was a shower curtain drawn around the tub.

“Billy?” He asked softly.  
***

Billy’s eyes were shut so hard he was starting to get a headache, though it might’ve been from crying too. He didn’t know when it had started but he knew it hadn’t stopped yet, just had short intervals where breathing felt more important. Max had been yelling into her walkie from her room for a while and Susan had come in and set some things down on the edge. He couldn’t see them because he couldn’t open his eyes, had to stay curled up to keep all of the pieces of him together. 

The sound of Steve’s voice kicked it all up again, arms around himself in a vicious hug while everything in him tensed. Mother’s Day was the day after graduation. He knew it but hadn’t been thinking about it, except maybe he had. Maybe in the last few days it had just been building over and over until this moment. He wanted—he didn’t know. To wreck something, hurt himself, forget about it. A little voice in his head that sounded like Steve and Bea said bad idea but this felt worse. 

A lot worse.  
***

Steve shut the door behind him with a soft click, before he padded across the cracked 70’s linoleum. He’d taken off his shoes by the door on impulse, didn’t want to dirty the trailer with his Nikes. He eased the edge of the shower curtain back, still like 90% expecting to see Billy soaking, but he wasn’t. He was sitting against the back of the tub, all curled up tight, like he might shatter into a thousand pieces of he let go of that death grip on his knees. Holding them to his chest. 

Steve’s eyes widened, watching how Billy’s own were all scrunched up, how he didn’t even look at Steve. It reminded him – sorely –of how Billy had been on the anniversary of his mom’s death. And he had suspected today would be rough, but, at least as far as he could tell –or smell – Billy wasn’t blackout drunk this time. Steve lowered himself down, squatting by the bathtub, and gripping the side of it.

“Hey….hey.” Steve murmured in his lower talking to frightened little critters voice. Examining Billy’s face and trying to determine if it was alright to touch. After a moment he decided maybe it was, but carefully, and he brought a large hand to rest against Billy’s forearm. “Billy? Baby? Can I come in there with you?”  
***

Billy drooped under Steve’s hand, nodding tightly as he dug his fingers into his knees. His jaw was clenched, just a little jerk of his chest as he tried to keep a new set of sobs inside. It wasn’t going to work for very long with Steve there, something about him opening him right up, though it felt like maybe it wasn’t good this time. 

His face fell in something like regret, like an apology because he couldn’t say it. He ducked his head down and felt his body spasm in protest but he could at least remember a little bit from earlier. The tone of Max’s voice and the fleeting little touches of Susan’s fingertips while he’d stayed curled up and crying. Loud enough to hurt his own ears.  
***

Steve took the assent to join him, and climbed into the tub. He actually fit himself into the space behind Billy – between his back and the tub, easing himself down an inch at a time to very gradually bump Billy forward just enough that Steve was behind him. His long, lanky legs on either side of Billy in the tub, cocked up at the knees, socked feet on porcelain.

It left him straddling Billy from behind, and winding his arms around him. Hugging him securely to Steve’s chest in this all encompassing sort of embrace, pressing his cheek to Billy’s shoulder. He leaned against the slope of the tub, letting Billy come back to rest with him. Still holding onto him.

“I’ll stay here with you. Okay?” He murmured in Billy’s ear. “And you can cry as much as you need to. Your stepmom left some tissues here if you need them, and some water. Do you need a tissue? Maybe a little water?” He asked softly, pressing a kiss to Billy’s shoulder.  
***

Billy shook his head, feeling like a statue being lowered, all stiff limbed and still. He went backward with Steve’s body and tried to relax but the feeling wouldn’t come. The kiss to his shoulder ended up being the last straw. 

His jaw unclenched and all the sobs he’d been stuffing in for the past few minutes came out. They were the kind that made your guts churn with the effort, his boots digging hard into the tub in front of him, his head aching so badly that he had to make himself open his eyes. When he did he saw what Steve was talking about, some wicker tissue box cover and a big glass of water on the edge of the tub. He saw his Mom’s bouquet too, all fucked up and bent on the bathroom floor. 

“I don’t want this to be my new st-art,” he wailed, hiccuping and clinging to Steve’s arms, all childish panic that he couldn’t stop.  
***

The sobs coming out of Billy, rocking Steve’s own body with them, made his heart fucking ache. Steve held on a little tighter, and let Billy hang on to him in return. Whatever he needed from Steve, Steve would give him. 

“Shhhhh shh, I know. I know. I know it hurts. You’ll still have a good start, it’s just a little hiccup along the way. I know you miss her, love.” Steve soothed. He never said ‘it’s okay’ or ‘you’re okay’ because he knew that wasn’t what Billy needed to hear. For Billy, it wasn’t okay, he wasn’t okay.  
***

“Scared Max again,” Billy managed, hugging Steve’s arms closer, crying into soft and freckled skin. “I didn’t—mean to.”

He’d just kept hearing her yell code red and the sound of Dustin and Lucas yelling back, like she’d needed back up. Like he was going to do something bad maybe, and he was trying to latch on to it. His hand dug into his eye out of habit and he must’ve looked stupid, like some deranged toddler almost kicking at the tub. Like somehow it would just stop, though he knew there just wasn’t much hope of that now. 

“Sorry.”  
***

“No no, hey, you didn’t scare her. Not like that. She was just worried about you. She was trying to get me to come over here, code red and, you know how they are. You don’t have to be sorry for being upset. You’re allowed to feel upset. It’s good to feel your emotions. To remember her.” 

It was so much better than what Neil had been doing – preventing Billy from actually processing his grief by actively getting him drunk, blacked out, not processing shit. So now here he was, years and years later, and it’s like it was fresh. Because he usually never let himself feel those emotions, until it was too much, like today. And there was no alcohol or weed or anything today. Just Billy in the tub. But Steve was here with him, and he’d help him get through it.

Steve rubbed both hands along Billy’s upper arms, like he was warming him up with long, slow, sweeping gestures before he snagged Billy’s hand that was digging into his eye. He drew it back, pressed a kiss into his palm. Gathered him back up into his arms.

“Why don’t you try taking some nice deep breaths for me, baby. C’mon. Just breathe with me, huh?” He took a nice deep breath to indicate his breathing pattern, letting his chest rise and fall with purpose against the curve of Billy’s spine. Long breath in, long breath out.  
***

Billy nodded, his head shaking precariously on his neck as he did it. The sounds he was making were still hurting his ears and he wondered if they were hurting Steve’s, but—Steve said it was alright. Good even. And Max wasn’t afraid of him, she was just worried about him. Nobody was afraid of him and he hadn’t done anything bad. He tried to make the words stick. 

He failed the first few attempts at breathing, taking long breaks to cry even harder, gasping through it until Steve’s arms gave him a gentle squeeze. Then he tried again, tried to match the movement of Steve’s chest. His own was shuddering but mostly doing it, until his headache didn’t feel quite as bad, his stomach not churning as quickly. 

“I m-miss my m-om,” he said mournfully, hiccuping a few more times before it got easier to breathe like Steve again, eyes fixed on the long legs on either side of him. “I m-essed up her flowers.”  
***

Steve kept on setting an example, even if the high pitched keening Billy was making was right at Steve’s ear – chin tucked against his shoulder, but he didn’t let it alter or change the slow breaths he was making for Billy to follow. Gently urging him along to help with softening his panic. His gaze drifted to the edge of the tub, just kind of registering the flowers that were on the floor – he’d been so focused on Billy before. 

“I know you miss her. But you know, she’s in such a good place, and she’s thinking about you today, too. Even if you can’t be there, she’s with you. All the time. And from everything you’ve told me, she wouldn’t be upset about flowers that got a little bit wrinkled up. She’d still love them, ‘cause she loves you.”  
***

Billy pressed a hand over his cheek but not hard enough to hurt, shoving his curls out of his face as he turned it against Steve’s chest. Maybe Steve was right, even if god wasn’t real or whatever, maybe she was thinking about him. Maybe she was sad too but maybe—she’d liked the flowers, the idea of them. 

“Is it always gonna be this bad?” he asked, voice muffled by Steve’s shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut again but not hard, just like his hand. “I don’t remember it being this bad.”  
***

When Billy got his face turned into Steve’s chest, Steve tucked his chin down to press a kiss against Billy’s crown. A soft, intimate gesture as he kept Billy in that all encompassing hug. Keeping him pulled against his chest, all warmth and safety, and slow, steady breaths. Puffing warm into Billy’s curls.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied softly, honest. “But I don’t think so. I think…I think you just spent so many of these kinds of days not feeling it, and these are the kinds of emotions you need to process or they just build up inside of you. Bottled up, and they have nowhere to go, even if you’re ignoring them. With grief, I think, people take a long time to process grief. But it’s a work in progress. It’ll never go all the way away, but…time heals everything. Time will make it a little better. If you let it. Baby, do you think you can drink a little bit of water? You’re gonna make yourself sick.”  
***

Billy swallowed and found there wasn’t much to swallow so he had to agree, sitting up a little. When he reached for the glass his hand shook but he got a good hold on it and drained it by half, tried to let the word baby warm him like it always did. It worked, but a thought still stuck with him. Not feeling it. 

“I’ve gotten drunk every year—every Mother’s Day, every birthday of hers. Since I was eight,” he said slowly, watching the glass shake more in his hand, the tears making his vision swim. “Why did he do that? Why did he—he made me, when I was little.”  
***

Steve tried not to clench his jaw at that, tried not to let Billy feel any tension, because he was just trying to get him relaxed at this point. Trying to bring him down. He didn’t need Steve getting worked up, too. But jesus christ. Since he was eight. He was just a kid. He made him?

“…I…honestly have no idea why your dad did any of the things he did.” Steve’s words were hedging as he reached out a hand to help steady Billy’s. Made it so the water didn’t slosh quite as bad. He was just glad he’d drank some of it. “But I can tell you it wasn’t okay. You were only eight. It wasn’t right. Maybe it’s something you can talk with Auntie Bea about…because…you have a lot of catch up, from that many years. Maybe she can help?”  
***

Billy sighed in relief when the glass steadied, drained the whole thing and set it out of reach. When he moved back he set his head firmly into Steve’s chest, happier than he ever thought he’d be to be cramped up inside of a bathtub with someone. It gave him some hope, like maybe next year it wouldn’t be this bad. Maybe he’d only spend half the time in the bathtub, and maybe it would be one in their apartment. 

“Haven’t slept,” he said, burrowing his face into Steve’s nice shirt, nicer than usual because he’d been at brunch. “I watched the sun rise, I emptied my gas tank. I think I got home at—seven. I think that’s when I got in here. I’ll—talk to her about it. I’ll talk to Bea about it.”  
***

Steve let Billy nuzzle against his chest, face planted there, and he twined his arms more securely around his shoulders, keeping him steady – holding him together so Billy didn’t have to do it himself. Letting him rest against Steve’s broad chest, and keeping the rest of the world at bay.

“That’ll make you feel worse if you haven’t slept.” Steve knew what it was to not sleep. And it did – it made everything feel worse after a very long night. Everything seemed one hundred times worse than normal. 

Steve let his legs slip a little farther in the tub, drawing Billy back with him so they were both more so half lying there, with Steve supporting him from underneath. Propped up against the back of the tub, whose sides rose up around them like protective walls. 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep yesterday. I should have – I don’t know. Been with you. I’m sorry.” He used one hand to pet against Billy’s hair, patting along his curls and calmly soothing through some tangles. The other hand rubbing his back in lulling circles. “Why don’t you keep breathing with me for now? Rest your eyes a little. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”  
***

Billy wanted to tell Steve not to be sorry, that he’d had his own shit, that he should’ve just told Steve instead of brushing it off. He could’ve stayed longer even, done something other than drive alone. It had already happened though and he was here and so was Steve, not going anywhere. 

Not even a handful of seconds after he nodded he could feel the vibrations of Steve’s chest under his ear. He was—singing, humming. Something quiet and slow like a lullaby, just like his mom used to. Steve’s voice was low and lovely and his hands were perfect, petting him and smoothing him out, taking out every jagged edge and making it soft again. All of it had him crying again but it was near silent, just him sniffling once in a while, curling up but now with a body to shield him. 

The exhaustion settled on him like a heavy blanket and it took no time at all to fall asleep, his breath only really evening out once he was unconscious. Still, his hands stayed around one of Steve’s arms, their grip unyielding even while he dreamed.  
***

Steve waited. He waited until Billy’s breathing evened out, and he waited until he started to grow heavy with sleep. He waited until he started to get a crick in his neck from the way they were laying in the tub. When he thought Billy was in a deep enough sleep, he adjusted them both so that he could lift him up. Scooping Billy up in his arms from where Steve stood at the edge of the tub, he held him bridal style, all sleep soft limbs and dead weight. He carried him out of the bathroom, and down the hall – caught Max’s eye in her room as he was passing, and gave her a reassuring wink. 

When he finally got to Billy’s room, he nudged the door closed behind him with his foot, and lowered Billy onto the bed. He settled a quilt over him, tucking him in, and lay down alongside him. Steve kept a hand within Billy’s, in that unrelenting grip, so that he didn’t lose the contact he thought Billy needed, and he didn’t leave – he said he wouldn’t. But he didn’t sleep either. He did that thing Billy’d mentioned – just kind of watched him sleep, keeping an eye on him, making sure he was alright, even in his sleep.  
***

Billy woke up disoriented, the surface under his body no longer unforgiving or cold. He opened his eyes and found them sore along with everything else, akin to the one or two nasty hangovers he’d had. The buzzing under his skin was gone though, and for that he was thankful. 

“I got that job,” he said in lieu of I miss my mother or I want to say sorry to Susan, his eyes on the ceiling. “At the auto shop, I got it. Start on Wednesday.”  
***

Steve had been busy admiring Billy’s face – the gradual slope of his little button nose, the way his forehead was all smoothed out like silk, and his mouth had gone lax – no tension to be found. Sometimes it would twitch, like he was dreaming, or his long, long eyelashes would flutter. When Billy started to stir, Steve shifted against his pillow, tightening his hand within the one that Billy was still holding onto. Trailed the edge of his thumb against the side of his knuckles. He noticed that Billy didn’t really look at him – seemed more interested in the ceiling than anything.

Steve’s eyebrows went up a little at the seemingly odd topic change from before Billy fell asleep, but he was willing to play. “You did? Well hey that’s great. …on Wednesday? Oh. What’s your shift look like?”  
***

“I’m going to be working four ten hour shifts a week, they think. Eight to six,” Billy said, finally turning his head to look at Steve, hand squeezing his tightly. “I could probably get more hours but I don’t know yet. Guess I’m just antsy to get out already.”

It was an understatement, a massive one. Bea had said baby steps but he was so used to life being erratic and throwing himself around from shiny thing to shiny thing. Steve wasn’t going to stay here, he was waiting until they got an apartment. That was nice and slow too but—

“I’m not good at it. The whole do something for yourself, baby steps thing,” he said, swallowing hard, trying to meet Steve’s eyes. “Used to just—shit like earlier, just all the time.”  
***

“Oh damn…like all day.”

Steve nodded a little, a faint puppy furrow forming at his brow as he tried to readjust on the bed, tried to get comfortable again. But he couldn’t quite manage it, chewing at his lip. 

“No yeah, um yeah, that’s good. You should get more hours, and, and then we can move faster…I mean if that’s what you want to do. And it’ll be good. Baby steps aren’t too hard to do though. That’s why they’re just baby steps. And I can always help you with getting started on something if you need me to.” He reached up a hand to brush feather light fingertips over Billy’s cheek. 

“You don’t even need to worry. Things will get better. Look at how much better they’ve already started to get, and it’s just the start of it.”  
***

Billy turned his cheek into Steve’s hand, trying to make it more than just a light, fleeting touch. He had all eyes on Steve now, watching his expression change from gentle disappointment to something more convicted. It made him smile, a lopsided little thing in the corner of his mouth as he nodded. 

“I know you’re right, I—sweetheart, I’m so thankful for you,” he said, eyes bright and intense. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, you know that right? I know it’s a lot of time for me to be working but it’ll be worth it, then we won’t struggle as much. Plus I’ll be able to keep myself moving while I do baby steps, tire myself out instead of getting antsy.”  
***

Steve smiled as Billy turned his face into his hand, and he really did cup Billy’s cheek then. Tracing his thumb fondly over the crooked corner of that perfect, plush mouth. 

“I love you. I’m just sorry that you had such a hard time today, that I wasn’t here sooner. We have so much to look forward to – you work as much as you need to, and I’ll be good, okay? I’ll start working soon too. Applied a few places.” He tried not to let a twinge start up in his chest, it really wasn’t any of his business. Billy needed to do what he needed to do, and it was just good that he’d gotten the job. 

Steve hooked their ankles together, “and if you get antsy, I can promise I can help with tiring you out too,” sticking his tongue between his teeth and batting his eyelashes.  
***

Billy nodded, lips going slack against Steve’s thumb after he pressed a kiss to it. He felt bad but it hadn’t been much of a choice; take the job or don’t because he couldn’t make it to the first day they needed him. He’d corralled all of the kids already and hoped it would be enough, that Max would retain everything he’d tried to drill into her, keep Steve busy. At least he wouldn’t be doing any work of his own that day, all things going well. 

“I’ll still be there, okay? Just not until six,” he said mournfully, pressing another kiss to Steve’s thumb before he curled his fingers around his wrist, moving to each fingertip slowly. “Happy you’re here now, you’re pretty good at diffusing a bomb.”  
***

Steve felt the twitchy thing inside of him settle, felt less like he had ants in his pants when Billy said he’d be there. After work. He didn’t know why he’s just sort of – he didn’t know. He didn’t actually think he’d really thought the words or even speculated, but, he’d just had his birthday forgotten before. Maybe he’d been a little bit worried. Only a little. But he shouldn’t have been, and he felt rather foolish now, as he squirmed a little closer to Billy. Shivering where those rough fingertips trailed up the lines of his palm straight up to his fingertips. Practically matching fingerprints. 

“’s okay. Getting a job is important, and I know that’s the one you wanted. We could totally plan something after, maybe?” Steve leaned in and pressed an unlasting kiss to the corner of Billy’s mouth, as if returning the sweet kisses he’d been leaving on Steve’s thumb like little presents. Even with his eyes all puffy with old tears and sleep and his hair a rumpled crazy mess, Steve thought he was beautiful. So beautiful, and he loved him so much.

“And yeah, I should totally work for a SWAT team, huh?” Steve joked for a second, lowering his lashes and tracing over Billy’s mouth with his eyes before his tone faded. “But seriously. You’re not some ticking time bomb, baby. You were just upset. You had every right to be upset. If you ever do feel like ‘exploding’ though, you call me. Or radio me, I don’t care. Don’t go off on your own like last night – tell me. Or come to my house. Same deal as when you got hurt before.”  
***

“I used to hide under my bed when I was little—after,” Billy said, surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. It was like they were easier to say with Steve’s fingers brushing them. Like he was pulling them out. “I got too big and I couldn’t fit anymore. My mom...I remember. I remember my mom getting us out a few times, trying to run away. I didn’t know it until after she was gone, but she would wake me up in the middle of the night with a bag already packed and we’d just go. Neil always hunted us down, shoved me into the truck like I was collateral to get her to come back. Then we’d both get our licks when we got home.”

His face turned into a pained grimace, tears running down the side of his nose, down his temple and into his hair. He hiccuped a few times and felt exasperated by himself but instead of stopping he just...kept going. 

“I remember her playing guitar on the beach, for money. I remember being hungry and tired but I was happy, I was with my mom and I was happy. I remember waking up during a drive and she was outside of the car pacing, talking to herself. I didn’t know—she tried. So many times.”  
***

Steve couldn’t imagine a reality quite like that, even as Billy was describing it to him. That his mom had tried to run. Tried to take Billy with her. And Neil had hunted them down every time she’d tried to get away. Taught them a lesson when he got them back, using Billy probably. Steve ran the edge of his finger along the line of Billy’s nose, sweeping his palm over stubbled cheeks and driving the tears from his temples with a gentle touch. He lay close along his body, closer than before, offering the comfort and heat of himself. Wrapping him up in a hug from the side, allowing him to nestle into Steve’s arms as he propped his chin atop Billy’s crown. Let him shake there in his embrace as Steve held him close.

“She loved you. She loved you so much. She’d be so proud of you, coming as far as you have, being in such a good place for you. With people that love and care about you. She would be so happy, baby. This is what she wanted for you, don’t you think? Just…wish she could be here with you. For you.”  
***

Billy pictured what it might’ve been to look out from the stage at graduation and see her there. Not even forty and still beautiful, some smile lines but otherwise the same. Big, curly hair and the tinkling sound of her lucite bracelets moving together as she clapped, as she whistled through her fingers. Proud. 

It started with a long gasp and erupted into crying that sounded, that felt worlds different than earlier. Like a wet towel being wrung out, his insides twisting while he clung to Steve’s shirt, burying his face in it even if it did nothing to muffle the noise. His breaths came in heaving gulps and he sounded like a child, devastated and dramatic. 

Only maybe not dramatic. Maybe his mother was gone and he’d never get to see her again.  
***

Steve tightened his arms around Billy’s shoulders, the sound of his sobs making a desperate ache form in the middle of Steve’s chest for him. He pressed his lips against Billy’s hair and kept them there. Held him through the shakes and the tremors as he let it all out – different from earlier, really letting everything go. 

The sound was enough to draw a knock at the door – before Susan was opening it, ferrying in a box of tissues and the concerned look of a mom. She came to the side of the bed, and Steve loosened his hold on Billy. Eased back enough that Susan could rest her lotion-soft hand against Billy’s shoulder.

“Oh Billy, dear – Billy. I know. I know it hurts.”  
***

Billy gasped again, this time because of the touch to his shoulder. He wanted to reach out, to move, but he was too afraid. He curled up against Steve’s chest even tighter, felt that hand sweep slowly up and down his back, soothing over his ribs. Hearing Susan say his name made him think mom, even if she wasn’t his, not really. It made him say it too, a long, mournful word like a terrible wave goodbye. 

It was getting more difficult to breathe the longer he cried, Steve’s shirt soaked under his face. No matter how hard he cried it felt like he’d never stop, but—it was like lancing a wound. Horrible and agonizing but pulling something that had been festering right out of him. He cried the word again and hiccuped into another wave, Steve’s chest still there, his arms still there, the small hand running over his back still there.  
***

Where Billy curled against Steve, he was a litany of soft touches, low murmurs, and a comforting presence against him. He didn’t mind if his shirt was getting all wet, just that Billy was letting it out. But then Susan was easing a little bit closer on the bed, making the mattress squeak with the shift of weight. Her self-manicured fingers were tickling gently over the edge of his ribs, the line of his side. 

“Billy…I know I’m not your mother, and I could never, would never try to replace her. I still love you so much, though. You’re a part of our family. Would it be alright if I give you a hug?” Susan asked in a soft, wavering voice. Her own pale blue eyes slightly misty, tearing up at the corners.  
***

Billy listened to the quiet lull of Steve’s voice, the way he was shushing him but not trying to make him stop. No guilt, just letting him know he was there, the idea that it might not last forever. Then it was Susan’s voice, her touch. Not his mother, never his mother, but something like it if he wanted it. 

He nodded and let out a shaky gasp for air that turned into a sigh, the crying not waning in the slightest. Only since Steve did the mortification of it lessen for him. The fear of a smack or a scream in his face for crying or even the sign of crying wasn’t here. Never would be again.  
***

Susan took the go-ahead and swooped in from behind, gently lifting Billy up from the bed with her petite little frame to pull him into her arms. She was patting his back like one might soothe a baby, like she might have patted Maxine’s back when she was small, carrying her in her arms and swaying around the room to get her to sleep. Or to get her to stop crying. With her other hand, the hand with her wedding ring still glinting on her ring finger, she pet over Billy’s hair, soothing his hair back from his forehead, over the bump of his scar. She was getting all weepy too, but she couldn’t help it. She just loved him so much.

“Oh honey, oh you’re such a brave boy you know. Your mother would be so proud of you, graduating, everything. You’re a young man now, at the top of your class. So proud.”

Steve sat alongside him, sitting up a little to rest a large hand against Billy’s thigh so that he still had the connection, even through the denim. Giving them their space and a moment, and honestly, he wondered if he should even step out – give them alone time, step-mom to step-son. He glanced at the door, not wanting to make three into a crowd, and he’d been hogging Billy all day since he got to the trailer.  
***

Billy sunk into Susan’s embrace, surprised at how well she held him together. It was like he didn’t weigh a thing, her arm cradling him as he let his head loll back with her hand. He remembered her encircling him the night he’d had a nightmare, the things she’d said then. Right now it felt like getting to really experience it, all the maternal love she was putting into everything. His eyes were wide as he looked at her, still hiccuping and sobbing, her hand moving over his face like some kind of spell. 

Max poked her head through the door and tried to catch Steve’s eye, her hand barely sticking through to usher him out. Her brother wasn’t gonna stop any time soon and he—well, he needed this. Needed a mom right now, even if Steve had done a good job.  
***

Steve slunk out of the room after giving Billy’s leg one last pat, like a reassuring thing that he wasn’t really leaving – just going away for a little bit. He let Max guide him out of there, and gave Susan and Billy the alone time they needed. He was thankful to Max for giving him the out – because he’d felt bad leaving but he’d felt bad staying, too. 

He let out a huge anxious breath when he got into the hall, rubbing his hands over his face and into his hair, making it stand up all crazy on end. He glanced down at Max as they strode down the tiny hallway, having to walk one at a time because there wasn’t that kind of width to the thing. 

“Thanks. Good timing.” Steve said. “I think she’ll help him feel a lot better.”  
***

“She’s really good at that,” Max said, no small amount of pride in her voice. “Here, just pop a squat over there.”

She waved toward the kitchen table and rifled through the fridge, pulling out a pizza box and a can of Coke. She slapped three pieces of pepperoni onto a plate and set it in front of Steve with the pop, taking a big bite of a slice of her own as she plopped down across from him. 

“Job well done, you did your -Steve thing-.”  
***

Steve hadn’t realized he was ravenous until he actually had the pizza in front of him – he figured Billy had to be even hungrier, but he also knew being upset, crying, made food pretty disgusting at the same time. Steve was anxious over Billy, but still pretty hungry, and he didn’t know what time it was, but it was getting dark outside. 

He glanced at his watch as he tore into a piece of pepperoni and glanced at his watch. It was almost seven. Steve inhaled the pizza and flopped back against the back of the kitchen chair, humming a little at the grease and goodness, wishing that maybe Billy would be up for eating something sometime soon, but he wasn’t sure. He’d barely gotten that water down. 

“Thanks, Max. I’m not sure what my ‘Steve thing’ is,” Steve said, amusement bordering his words. “But I guess that’s good? Sorry I took so long earlier. I was at the country club, so I didn’t exactly have my walkie talkie. It’s super boring there, but there are golf carts. Dustin said I should steal one and let you nerds ride around in it.” He took a sip of the Coca-Cola, but jesus what he really wanted was a beer.  
***

“Oh man, hitching myself to the back of it on my skateboard?” Max said, head tilting in thought as she daydreamed, grinning around another bite of pizza. She hummed at the idea before polishing her slice off, shrugging. “I don’t know, you just—smooth him out. I can hear the way he talks to you sometimes and his voice is all different.”

She paused for a moment at the sound of Billy saying something—well, crying it was more like it. She could hear her mom cooing and the sound died down, a sad smile on her face. 

“It’s...good, right? That he’s doing that?”  
***

“Yeah, Max. I think it’s good. I mean I know it seems maybe a little…scary? But it’s good. Sometimes you just need to cry, and after that it helps you feel a little bit better, right? It’s like that. He just needs to let it out.” 

Steve nodded, working through his second piece as he glanced towards the back of the trailer – pausing with the slice halfway to his mouth, before he slowly resumed eating it when the sound went quiet. A little crease in his brow. 

“I think it’s just a lot for him, this time of year. It’s a big reminder. It’s hard to lose someone.”  
***

“I can remember one or two Mother’s Days after mom got together with that evil asshole,” Max said, a frown forming on her face too and getting deeper every second. “Even when we were getting along in the beginning, I still remember it. He would get just—I don’t know, I’ve never seen him drunk like that ever. He’d just leave the house and Neil would let him drive like that.”

She shook her head in thought, her arms crossing over her chest. She kicked her legs up on a chair next to her and settled back in, the next shake of her head like trying to rid herself of something. 

“Thank you Steve, I mean it. I mean, I know he’s good. I know he’s been trying on his own but you just...do your Steve thing and it’s like. Like that big cloud over his head is gone.”  
***

Steve took a long swig from his soda as he studied her over the tab with serious, dark eyes, contemplative as he considered what she was saying. He tilted his head a little with thought, gaze tracing over the way her entire face sort of crumpled up, the way she was trying to shake away memories like noxious wasps. He remembered what had happened during the anniversary before – how drunk Billy had been even before school, how Steve had found him, how he’d punched the teacher.

How spitting mad, and blind drunk he’d been. Blacked out with drink. Blocking out memory and blocking out her. All instigated by his fucking dad, since he was eight years old, Billy said. It made something tight and hot clench up in Steve’s throat, made it hard to even swallow, made the backs of his eyes feel a little warm. Got his jaw locking up, rolling a little, but he tried not to show it in front of Max. She didn’t need that from Steve – she was confiding in him, she was trying to chase away the bad thoughts. How could she understand? Steve barely did, and he was older. 

“Evil is right. What he did – I don’t know, Max. I think it really made it hard for Billy to process what happened with his mom. And I think he’s trying to process it now, the best he can, but he’s kind of behind on it. Because of what Neil did, letting that all happen. You don’t need to thank me Max…” Steve canted his chin down, studying the shine of the Coke can. Frowning a little. “I just…I love him. I don’t know if I’m actually helping, but I want to try and help him in any way that I can. I’d chase away any cloud if I could, y’know?”

It seemed like things had gone really quiet. Almost too quiet. Steve set the can down, and stood. 

“Sounds really quiet. Maybe he fell asleep?” He murmured, glancing down at Max with his eyebrows arching up. He headed to the back of the trailer again, peeking in the door. A little smile flit over his mouth at the sight – Billy flopped out over Susan on the bed, heavy and soft with sleep, his back rising and falling slowly as Susan rubbed a hand up and down his side. Easing him into sleep. Comforting him. Making it all okay, like only moms could.  
***

Max tiptoed behind Steve slowly, maybe slower than she really needed to. It was just that—Steve loved Billy, loved her brother. She’d never heard anyone say that before, not even her mom up until a couple of months ago. Maybe no one had loved Billy until now except for his mom. The thought made her stomach feel heavy, like somebody had dropped a boulder into it. 

Someone did love him now, more than just Steve, but the way Steve loved him was different. She’d watched him for months, circling her brother like he was a wounded animal, all careful and quiet and kind in the way nobody ever really thought to be with him. Now he stayed over more often than not, popped in to say hi, kissed her brother’s face or his knuckles like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. 

She stopped just short of running into Steve in the doorway, peering around him to look at what had made Steve go still. Her mom was cradling Billy like she did with her sometimes, mostly when she was a lot smaller, and Billy looked—he looked peaceful. Being loved by people made him look like that. 

That thought carried her the next few days, dutifully taking notes while Billy spazzed out and paced the trailer. Calling out Steve’s favorite snacks, movies, how he liked the thermostat set, which lights to turn on first. He wanted her to rule Steve’s birthday with an iron fist and after seeing all the good Steve did, always did, it wasn’t hard to undertake.  
***

Steve lay in bed for a while once he woke up. Stuffing the pillow up into his arms and pressing his face into it and sort of relaxing into it. It was summer – he was graduated – no school, and no work yet, and it was his birthday. He wasn’t in a rush to move. 

He could totally laze around until Billy got off of work, then they could do stuff. He remembered Billy mentioning something about sending the kids over, so that could be fun too. He blinked blearily and sat up, knowing he had super bad bed head, but there was nobody around to see it, so. Who cared? He crawled out of bed with the blanket around his shoulders, trailing it behind him, and wandered into the bathroom. He needed to take a piss, wash his face, and brush his teeth before trying to tame that mane of hair after a long, hot shower. 

Air drying his Farrah Fawcett treated hair, he almost jumped as he finished buttoning up the top buttons of his white collared, blue polo. The doorbell was ringing. With his stomach grumbling at him, Steve headed downstairs in his socks and a pair of casual blue jeans. He swung the door open half expecting that guy with the freakin’ vacuums again – how many times had he told this dude he didn’t need a Kirby or whatever? – but it was just Max. Steve grinned down at her, holding the door open with one hand, the other against the door jam. 

“Well hey, mornin’ MadMax. What brings you here this early?” He glanced up for a sign of a familiar car – she couldn’t have boarded over here on her own, but he didn’t see Billy’s car like he might have hoped, just for a second. Despite himself. He knew he had work.  
***

“Your birthday, honorary brother,” Max answered, three grocery bags in tow as she squeezed past Steve and into the foyer. She made a beeline for the kitchen, tossing them on the nearest counter and rifling through, setting eggs, bacon, and bread out before shoving the rest in the fridge. “No peeking alright? The guys will be here soon. Your job today is parking your ass right on the couch so go.”

Like clockwork the boys had arrived a few minutes later, dumping their bikes by the front door and stampeding through. They all stopped at Max to receive orders; Dustin setting up a comfortable gaming station in the living room, Will and Lucas helping with breakfast, Mike making sure the temp and the lights were right. After that it was easy, Max thought, to remember everything Billy had been drilling into her the last few days. She could see everything Billy had been hoping for sort of coming to fruition and it made her weirdly proud, seeing how well her brother seemed to know Steve. 

“Seriously, stop fussing and just keep playing,” Lucas said, perched on the couch some hours later. “We already ate twice and nothing’s on fire, man. Just do the—I honestly don’t know how you even play that. How do those controls have anything to do with sports?”

“Billy’s coming soon, I think,” Will piped up, sounding eager and looking like he’d realized it, mouth snapping shut as he settled further into his chill out spot as Dustin had described them. 

It had been a good day, but it was starting to give Steve a headache, worrying over the kids screwing around in the kitchen and shit if he couldn’t keep a proper eye on them. It was saying a lot that he could try and get the knots out of his shoulders and lean back into the sofa where he was wielding his controller, Dustin as second player alongside him.  
***

“Jesus, I’m not fussing, I’m just – okay I mean it’s not rocket science, it’s just like your games at the arcade, just, you know, goal oriented.” Steve said wisely, actually feeling like he knew something that they didn’t for like once, ever. Dustin had actually given him the gift early even though they hadn’t opened presents yet, but Steve had a similar game, so it was easy to pick up the controls.

“A is run, B is pass, left and right controls who you’re selecting on the team. It’s really easy.” He chewed on his lip as he made a field goal, making Dustin groan. He didn’t like losing at the game, but this was one of the few Steve actually really excelled at. He was also pretty decent at Super Mario Bros, he thought. The little electronic crowd went wild. Steve grinned. “See?”

“Sonuvabitch.” Dustin sighed and stuffed more cheetos in his mouth.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” 

Dustin looked at him balefully like he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Well, he HAD gotten Steve the game, so.

Mike made a huffy sigh through his nose from where he was slouching in the La-Z-Boy, all gangly limbs hanging off the edges. Flopped out like a dead fish. “I know it’s birthday-fun-times or whatever but seriously, couldn’t we play, oh I don’t know, a fun game in that case?”

Dustin threw a throw pillow at him. “I got this game for Steve! For his birthday! DUH! So obviously we’re playing it!”

“You mean you’re losing at it.” Mike lifted his nose at him.

“I mean we can always play something else if you guys want, I have a couple different games.” Steve said.  
***

“Oh my god Mike, shut up,” Max interjected, leaning over the top of the couch, arms flapping. “It’s Steve’s birthday, not Mike’s bitching day.”

“Yeah Mike, Steve’s birthday,” Lucas echoed, puffing up a bit at the proud smile he got from Max for his efforts. “Plus, you’ll only have to ‘suffer’ a little longer, Billy’s off work so he’s bound to—“

His sentence was cut short by the very familiar sound of a loud engine close to the house, followed by some just barely audible swearing and doors shutting. Max hopped up out of her spot and went to the door, helping her brother out with the sheet cake he was holding, taking in the greasy coveralls with a wrinkle of her nose. 

“Don’t you look at me like that,” Billy said, hoisting some last minute groceries back over his shoulder and moving down the hall. “The old bag at the bakery wasn’t doing it right so it took longer, I had to practically wrestle her for the piping bag so I could do it right. Didn’t have time to go home and change. Everything go right?”

“Perfect even,” Max said with a smile, one that got bigger when her brother mirrored hers. “They’re all in the living room, I’ll put the cake down.”

“Carefully,” Billy warned, taking his hair down and putting it back up in a knot as he moved into the living room. He only had eyes for Steve then, visibly brightening at the sight of him. “Hi, sweetheart.”

***

Steve looked over from where he’d been being held hostage on the couch, perking up when Billy came into the living room. Completely perfect in coveralls and looking a little greasy, with – with his hair back in a bun. Steve’d never seen it up like that. His eyebrows went up just a hair at the sight of him, and definitely not in any kind of a bad way. In a very good way, actually. 

“Hey! You made it.” Steve put the game on pause and crossed the tangles of sprawled out bodies and limbs until he reached Billy. He pulled him into a hug, grease and all. He’d been wanting to hug him all day, like an unspoken thank you for having all of the brats come over and keeping him company. It was the best birthday he’d had in a while, and it was only going to get better now that Billy was here. He pulled back enough to reach up and wipe at an oil spot on Billy’s cheek. His other arm still looped around his shoulders. 

“How was your first day of work?” He asked, smiling down at Billy with a crooked tip to his mouth, gaze trailing back up to the way Billy’s curls were swept up into the bun. 

The hand at the back of his neck fondly played with the baby hairs there, exposed with the rest of his hair up. Mike made a gagging sound, which wasn’t too different from when he’d been dating Nancy, so nothing new. He really just seemed to loathe any kind of PDA if he wasn’t the one showing off with El. Especially if it was coming from Steve, he figured probably since he’d dated his sister. He ignored him.

“Steve do you want me to turn this off?” Dustin asked. 

Steve glanced over his shoulder with a shake of his head. “Nah, leave it on – there’s no save option on it. Just leave it running.”  
***

Billy smiled, shoulders rising a bit at the tickle at the back of his neck. He kept dutifully still to let Steve fuss over his cheek and watched him do it, that fond concentration that came over his face and the slightest hint of his tongue in the corner of his mouth. He wanted to tell Steve right then how lucky the world was that he’d been born but he didn’t want to embarrass him either, the—

There was soap in the air. There was—a bar of soap. In the air. Floating in the air. 

He watched it go and didn’t even notice that the entire living room had gone dead silent too, too busy watching it move lazily forward. Maybe he’d been under the cars too long and had breathed in some fumes he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe he was tripping super fucking hard. 

“Steve, this soap. Where did you get it,” El said as she came out of the bathroom, a statement rather than a question, wiping her hands off on her romper. “It smells better than egg—Billy. Max and Steve’s Billy.”

The bar of soap dropped a few feet away from Billy and he turned slowly, his eyes comically wide. The girl in front of him had wide eyes too and she was looking at him and then at Mike, then the whole room, then Steve. He didn’t think he could move now even if he wanted to, a million questions all getting lost like someone had shoved his brain into a blender. 

“That’s...El,” Will supplied slowly, though he wasn’t moving either.  
***

Steve went entirely still when he saw the bar of soap floating there, as if held by some magical, invisible string as it bounced it’s way over to him – like the dancing, floating books on The Sword in the Stone being led by Merlin. Steve’d loved that movie as a kid. He blinked at it sluggishly, then slowly turned his eyes back to Billy, a tight look coming over his face, and making him swallow – like he had a fucking rock in his throat. His smile had fallen away, the corner of his mouth twitching, and the fingers curled into the cute little baby curls flinched at the look on Billy’s face. He looked a little like he did when Steve’d popped him one – wide eyed and stunned, right before he’d been almost manic and pissed.

“Yeah, he…they met…at Billy’s party. ‘member? Um.” Steve slowly unfurled the arm from around Billy’s shoulders to give him a little space. Took a short step back and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the soap – now lying motionless on the carpet. 

He bent over to pick it up like it was a natural thing to do. Maybe - Billy hadn’t..noticed. “Erm, it’s from Paris, in France. It’s a city in France. France is a different country across the world. My mom got it there for me for Christmas. They have a big...” He babbled, blinked dumbly, and even though he was talking to El, he hadn’t looked away from Billy. “Um, - tower, there.”

Dustin was lowly murmuring ‘shit shit shit’ under his breath and looking back and forth from El to Billy before pulling down at the brim of his cap to cover his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

Mike got his little rabid Chihuahua look when he thought something was gonna happen to El and he hopped up from the couch. Walking in between El and Billy like he could somehow block the sight of her from him, although it was far too late for that, and El was actually taller than him now. What’d he think Billy was gonna do? Christ.  
***

“Am I fucking high or something?” Billy said slowly, turning his head one way and then the other to gauge the faces around him. Everyone was at their own level of dismay, Steve doing his whole slow-talking-totally-normal thing with his arms crossed like some big adult. It warmed him until he remember the soap that had been floating. 

“No, El is just…,” Max started, trailing off and looking around at everyone too. “Special.”

“You can’t tell anybody you saw that, man,” Lucas said quickly as he stood, hands stiff and serious in front of him. “Bad people could—well, they can’t know. They’d get El, get us.”

Billy was very quickly reminded of the weird conversation with Steve at the quarry, about signing documents and the government watching. About people being threatened. When he looked at Steve he knew they were connected, knew it had to be about the only thing to explain it, seeing it for himself. And, well—it was Steve’s birthday. 

“Okay.”  
***

“Yeah! Yeah. If anybody asks you, you didn’t see shit, okay? Okay?” Mike said, shoulders drawn back, working his jaw nervously as he glanced over at El. “It’s important.”

Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. It smelled like sandalwood soap now. Then he glanced at the lights, at the television set, still paused on the game. 

“Guys, guys shut up. Don’t talk about it here, huh? Jesus, I swear you just tune Hop out. I’ll explain later.” He waved down the kids, gesturing with the bar of soap in hand like it gave him some kind of authority. Then he gazed back at Billy, chewing on a lip. “You’re not high. We can talk later? Yeah? Not here though. You okay?” 

“You’re CROWDING him you guys just give him some space to eat some cheetos or something, look at him, he’s gonna pass out.” Dustin got up to shove a bag of cheetos at Billy. “Here, eat something, my man. It’ll pass. We all went through it, you know?”  
***

“You can—maybe he should sit down, guys,” Will said softly, looking at Billy and focusing for a moment on the bun his curls were in. He stopped when Max gently slapped at his arm and dragged a chair over, fingertips touching Billy’s shoulder before ripping away quickly. “It’s really okay, El is great.”

Billy sat down with a thump and took the bag from Dustin, staring off into space as he shoved a good handful of Cheetos into his mouth. Some little girl who could float shit around, the same little girl who’d picked out a rock the same color as his eyes for his birthday. He looked at her where she was peeking around Mike with a smile, giving him a tentative thumbs up. After a minute he returned it, though his face didn’t change. 

“I—yeah, okay. Later,” Billy said to Steve, eyes still on El, eyebrows slowly knitting together. He looked down at the bag in his hands and then at El again, expectant in a way she seemed to understand. The bag lifted out of his lap by a few inches and he reached into it suspiciously, shoving another handful into his mouth. “Okay, later, sweetheart.”  
***

Steve settled down into the armchair alongside Billy – which really didn’t actually have that kind of SPACE, but he guessed he kind of made enough, angling himself just right so that he could lean back and rest a large hand over Billy’s forearm – the one that wasn’t busy working away at the cheetos. Gently rubbing over the coveralls sleeve. He wished Billy hadn’t been kind of blindsided by that – but he also didn’t know how he could have possibly warned him in advance and have been believed, either. It was one of those you have to see it to believe it things. 

Steve had mentioned Carrie to him before, in entirely different context – but that’s the thing, it was a thing of movies, of the supernatural or paranormal or whatever – Dustin had scolded him when he called it ‘supernatural’ because it was ‘paranormal.’ 

“You need to take a second?” He asked. “Or you want some water or something? A beer? I can get you something, whatever you want. I know it’s ah – kind of a lot at first. But Dustin’s right, you do get used to it…”

“Oh I see how it is so he makes some puppy dog eyes at you and you float that but you can’t float the Millenium Falcon when I – “ Dustin started.

“Dammit Dustin, what did I just say?” Steve snapped, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He didn’t like them talking about that shit at the house. They shouldn’t be talking about it at theirs, either. If they wanted El to be found, that was a pretty damn good way, and it had taken years off of Hopper’s life and the jaws of life to pry El away from him for even small outings like this.

“Yeesh, fine, -touchy-, it’s not like I said – “

Steve held up a finger. Dustin snapped his mouth shut. 

“That’s why you guys didn’t see her for like a year, you know.” They didn’t know how to keep their traps shut. 

“Uh no that’s because the Chief’s a douchebag.” Mike pointed out, settling down to sip at his pepsi, drawing El down with him. He glanced at the look she gave him, backpedaling. “Um you know sometimes. Most of the time.”  
***

“No no, I’m cool. I mean I’m not cool, but it’s cool and yeah, a beer,” Billy said with his mouth full, watching El smile at him. Fucking bizarre. 

“Billy’s good, he’s a friend,” El said definitively, looking at Mike in particular and pointing. “And it’s Steve’s day, so—now we do things for Steve. Steve said later.”

The words spur Billy into action and at the look on El’s face he wonders if she knew they’d work, if something normal that he’d meticulously planned out would be good for him. Either way it makes him slip out of his chair and lift the hand off his arm, giving the knuckles a kiss before moving into the kitchen. He waves off Max’s attempts to help and lifts the sheet cake out of its box, smiling down at it. 

A chocolate and vanilla layer cake with Happy Birthday Sweetheart on it in his own elegant cursive, though he couldn’t take credit for the piping on the outside or the pansy marzipan that was scattered about. Maybe it was stupid to be so excited about how pretty a cake was but Bea had said little things and this counted. Giving Steve something pretty counted. 

“Okay everybody, gather ‘round so we can embarrass our favorite nineteen year old,” he said, twisting the cake around to face Steve when he got closer. He lit a candle and stuck it right in the middle with a flourish, smiling ear to ear. “You want us to sing to you, Steve?”  
***

Steve followed after Billy, watching him lift the cake out like a proud artist that had done it himself, and with the vaguely familiar cursive, Steve thought he had. At least the writing. He grinned at Billy while everybody else gathered around him like a gaggle of goslings, all fighting for a better spot and to get a good look at the cake. Jesus, yeah, he was nineteen today, huh? It seemed strange. Nineteen. 

He flushed at the implication of singing, going red from the tips of his ears to the creep of color up his neck, lighting up his pale, freckled cheeks. He loved the smile on Billy’s face though, showing all of his teeth, but in a good way – a very, very good smile – the kind that made his eyes light up like the reservoir on a July summer day. 

“Oh. I dunno. I mean uh, I don’t care, whatever you guys want.” Steve shrugged a little, a self-conscious curl at the corner of his lips, gazing down at the candle now – the light of it reflecting in mahogany dark eyes. “You got such a fancy one. It’s so pretty, I love it, thank you.”  
***

Billy lifted his hands like a conductor and began to sing, grinning when everyone joined in. It was nice to see Steve embarrassed in a good way, embarrassed because people loved him so much and were giving him the attention he deserved. He sidled up to him and peppered his face with kisses as they sang, the words drifting close into Steve’s ear. Ignoring Mike’s stink face and distantly acknowledging Will’s big eyes. 

“Make a wish, sweetheart,” he said, planting a kiss on Steve’s temple and wrapping his arms around his waist. He knew he must smell like a car shop and he might not look great but Steve still looked happy to have him. Later he’d cleaned up, after they all ate and he kicked the nerds out. Maybe Steve would clean up with him, and that was a nice thought too.  
***

Steve laughed as Billy dotted his face with kisses – well, to be honest, he almost might have honest to god giggled – but guys didn’t giggle and it was so not a giggle and he had to really choke it down so it didn’t SOUND like a giggle. He had to press his lips together so hard in a smile that he still ended up laughing lightly where Billy’s lips strayed. 

It just felt so good, all of it – Billy’s attention, the singing (Even if it was also a little embarrassing, but in a good way?), the way they’d all remembered and spent the day with him, and Billy would spend the night with him, he was sure. Where Billy wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, steady and grounding, Steve studied the candle for a second, his thoughts clicking away. 

A wish. His birthday wish. He closed his eyes, for a heartbeat, two, considering. Their new place. He wanted to get their new place as soon as possible, and have this every day with Billy – wake up with him and go to sleep with him and eat meals with him and – everything. He wanted all of that. He hoped it wasn’t too much to ask.

He leaned down and blew out the candle, waving the smoke out of the way as the kids hooted and cheered, still finishing off their ‘Frankenstein on #9, Scooby Doo on #2…’ lyrics. Steve watched the smoke rise like a promise of his wish coming true. Soon. 

There was a bustle of activity as somebody grabbed the paper plates for the cake, and before he knew it, Dustin was wielding a randomly large knife. Steve quickly commandeered it just to get it out of Dustin’s hands, letting El have the candle so she could suck the frosting off the end. Steve carefully sliced the pieces of cake so that the kids didn’t take huge chunks and make themselves sick, doling out plates. He got the first bite because he was the birthday boy apparently, so he made sure to start quickly.  
***

Billy sat Steve down and then himself, digging into the cake and humming happily as he watched the kids sit together in a veritable dogpile, eating and giving each other shit and laughing. Steve’s kids, ones he was starting to like too, ones that him and Steve would be able to stick around a bit for. Maybe the next round of birthdays would be at their place, together. 

“How was your day so far?” he asked quietly, watching Steve intently as he chewed. He set the plate down on the kitchen island and used his hand to gently move over Steve’s knee, his whole body canted towards him. “I’m gonna kick the kids out but—was it okay? Having them here while I worked?”  
***

Steve worked through his slice of cake, and when Billy turned his whole body towards Steve – a hand on one knee, Steve felt his entire body respond to the touch, and turned to him, too, like a plant turning towards the sun. Licking frosting from his lower lip and secretly admiring the way Billy looked again. He looked so rough from being at the shop, he guessed, smudgy and perfect and somehow hotter for it? It was very difficult to describe. And Jesus, with his hair up like that, Steve couldn’t wait for summer. He hoped Billy had his hair up like that every day once it got really hot out. Steve swallowed so he could reply.

“It was really, really good. Thank you so much for today – for setting this all up, I mean breakfast, the nerds, video games? You even told Max about the temperature? You thought out everything. It was like you were sort of here, too. It was more than okay. It was great. But I’m really glad you’re here now – it feels complete. The whole day. Once they’re gone, I’d really like to ask you about your day, too, at the shop. Just…just thanks. Thanks, I really mean it. I love you.” He leaned in and brushed the briefest, softest of kisses against Billy’s sandpaper cheek.  
***

Billy tried to make it another half hour, he really did. Having the kids around was nice and everything and he had asked Max to bring them there—they were a big part of why Billy knew Steve’s birthday would go well. They followed orders well for the sake of their prized babysitter and Steve loved them but half an hour ended up being too long to even fathom. About twenty minutes too long, it turned out. 

He stood at the doorway with Steve and waved them all off, watched them get on their bikes, Max on her board, and get smaller and smaller. He leaned back against the frame to get a good look at Steve and smiled, let himself take him in for a minute. All soft hair and big brown eyes, that perfect painter’s brush smatter of freckles all over his skin. The way his shoulders seemed light and he looked bright in the face, like some perfect sunbeam in front of him. 

“C’mon,” he said softly, ushering Steve back inside with a hand on his arm. “Here, just—you take a seat, okay?”

He moved into the kitchen and fished around in the bag still left on the counter until his fingers closed on a small package—maybe too small, he thought. It was too late now so he took it out anyway, biting the inside of his cheek as he came back to the couch, sitting down next to Steve and holding the present in both of his hands. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t really—here,” he said, mustering up a smile and passing the package to Steve, playing with the outside seam of his coveralls as he watched.  
***

Once all of the kids had gone their separate ways, riding away into the twilight hour, where everything seemed hazy, growing dark like a dream, Steve settled down onto the couch at Billy’s request. The game was still on pause, the chimey, cheery little music on low in the background. Steve perked up as Billy settled down next to him – the taste of cake still on his tongue. With the kids finally gone, he felt a lot more at ease with touching Billy more. He reached out to fondly furl a few wandering fingertips around the shell of Billy’s ear, pushing a rogue curl back behind it, admiring the way his hair was pulled back. The way Steve could touch Billy’s neck so easily, with open access, ticking along the skin there beneath his ear. A smile playing across his mouth.

He glanced down at the present in surprise – and his eyebrows went up, smile growing enough to crinkle at the edges of bright brown eyes. He abandoned Billy’s neck for the moment, tempting though it was, and accepted the tiny gift. It felt dwarfed in his hands. 

“You didn’t really have to – “ Steve said, though he knew what it was – it was exactly what he’d asked for, and it was pretty difficult to mistake the specific size of the package. He’d asked for a mix-tape. He felt like a bit of a girl asking for a mix-tape, like it was valentines or something, but he didn’t care. He liked mix tapes, and he was giddy at the concept of Billy recording him music. Music just for him. It was romantic as shit. His dark gaze flickered back up to Billy, his mouth still sweetly curled at the corner. “No it’s totally perfect. Thank you.” Nimble fingers tore the packaging away, careful despite himself, and revealed the tape underneath – with Billy’s careful handwriting. Steve smiled down at it. “It’s just what I wanted. Can we listen to it now? Is that cool?”  
***

Billy nodded and sprang up out of his spot, reaching for Steve’s hand and not surprised with he got it immediately. The whole time that he was leading Steve upstairs he thought of the smile he’d gotten, how Steve thought it was perfect even though he hadn’t heard it yet. Maybe it was just like that, loving someone. That you liked what they did no matter what, just because they did it for you. He didn’t know when he’d get used to that—knowing Steve smiled like that because of him. 

When they got into Steve’s bedroom he hit the eject button, carefully slipping one of Steve’s Duran Duran tapes back in its case and holding his hand out for the mixtape. He tried to wind it back first just in case but was happy to find it ready to go, popping it in and swiftly hitting play, warbled guitar sounds filling the hellish plaid room. 

He wanted to say it’s okay if you don’t like it or maybe someday I’ll be able to afford a real present but he knew what Steve would say to that. So instead he guided Steve’s arms around his waist and put his own around Steve’s shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck and starting to sway. Every song made him think of Steve so—maybe it was perfect. 

***

Large hands were easily led to Billy’s waist, fitting against his thick waistline – almost hidden beneath the bulk of his coveralls. Steve looped his arms around even more securely then, really wrapping them around Billy’s middle to tug him closer where they swayed against one another to Bowie. 

He smiled and leaned forward just enough to bump their foreheads together, smiling down at their feet as Steve’s eyes slid closed. Humming along low in the back of his throat to Billy, easing from side to side on his socked feet. He figured they probably made quite the pair in his room, slow dancing. But Steve had a lot of romantic bones in his body, and it lit up each one like the Fourth of July.

He smiled to himself, their foreheads still resting together as they wavered in the same spot. He enjoyed the time, listening to each song, and was delighted to find that each song matched his taste in music rather perfectly. It was almost uncanny. 

After a while of song after song, until it was almost to the end of Side A, Steve slid his eyes open. Feeling almost drowsy or high or something with endorphins, he spoke – close enough to mix air. 

“I love it. I really do. How’d you remember I like all this stuff? Best boyfriend award.” He added in a bit of a teasing tone, but it was still pretty clear he also meant it. “Love it. Love you. Missed you all day.” He closed enough distance between them then, to press his lips against Billy’s – he smelled like a car. Steve’s fingers tightened against the dip of Billy’s lower back, trying to draw him closer still. Crinkling up the material of the greyish suit-thing.  
***

Billy shrugged but didn’t get much time to play coy and casual, Steve’s kiss wiping away any hope. He remembered because he liked watching Steve’s head bop in the car or in their rooms, that goofy smile he wore whenever Tears for Fears came on. He remembered because he wanted to be the one to put it on his face himself and it worked. It worked because Steve had danced with him through the first side of the tape and he’d missed him. 

“Love you,” he echoed, letting himself be pulled until they were chest to chest. He briefly worried that he might get grease on Steve’s soft cotton but it was clear that Steve wasn’t at all. His next few words were punctuated with the sound of their mouths meeting, each kiss a little longer than the last.“I’m happy you were born, sweetheart.”

***

Steve’s lips parted a little more with each passing kiss, smiling against Billy’s perfect, plush mouth as he said one of the sweetest things imaginable. “How’d I get so lucky? Ending up with one of the most romantic guys? Mm?” Steve murmured against Billy’s mouth, the last bit hummed against his lips while Steve’s tongue lapped out along the lower – trying to tempt Billy’s own tongue out to play. 

Pulled flush together, Steve made a happy sound and nipped a little at Billy’s lip. He couldn’t have ever explained to Billy – the small things, little romantic gestures like that, made the world to Steve. He’d usually always been on the giving end, but never on the receiving, and he’d felt pretty great all day. Since the minute he’d woken up, it was like he was on that receiving end of sweet gestures on Billy’s part all day – even if it was being implemented through Max and the kids. Little things. That said he knew Steve, well. Things like temperature, or what he liked for breakfast, and video game time and – all of the music. Steve loved Tears for Fears. 

Dreamily, he left a trail of soft kisses along Billy’s cheek, to nose at the juncture where ear met jaw, tickling the skin with warm breath. “I like your hair up like this. Anybody ever tell you you’ve got cute ears?”  
***

Billy made a sound of irritation and knew that the ears in question were probably going a little red, had him ducking his head—though not enough to really move away from Steve. He smiled despite himself and tried to focus on the first sentence, craning his neck to give Steve some more room. His neck was bruise free now, a part of him left pristine that he’d never thought to appreciate until it wasn’t. He decided to at least try not to get too flustered about his ears—well, he tried. 

“Too big,” he said under his breath, head ducking one more time before he made himself relax. 

Then it was a little easier to hold onto Steve’s shoulders, fingers carding through the soft hair at the back of his head as he moved closer. He slowly nudged them towards the bed and sighed, happy to finally be where he’d been picturing himself all day. A little sore, a little exhausted, but mostly just happy. 

“Had another present in mind,” he said quietly, one hand moving down to play with the waistband of Steve’s sweats. “Can I give it to you?”  
***

“Totally not too big. Too cute maybe. You need to wear your hair up more.” Steve murmured, licking along the curl of Billy’s cartilage. Wrinkling his nose a little in delight as the top of that ear burned red. Steve pressed a reassuring kiss to his temple, before he let Billy start guiding him backwards towards the bed. 

When Billy’s fingers started to slip beneath the waistband of his sweats, fiddling with the drawstring, Steve’s breath hitched just a bit. He nodded in response, an eager thing, still smiling as the backs of his thighs bumped against the mattress edge. 

“Please.” He added as an afterthought to his nod. Long fingers traced around to Billy’s front to curl into the front of his garage suit, wishing he could get Billy out of it. Fiddling with the buttons.  
***

Billy sat Steve down and took over, knew that his coveralls were a bitch to get off and on and knew he couldn’t really wait either. He slipped out of it with no small amount of effort, pulling the tank top he’d had underneath up and over his head. It all ended up in a pile on the floor and left him completely naked, though not without a grease spot or two on his forearms. Steve really didn’t seem to mind that if the hungry look on his face was anything to go by. 

He sank to his knees in front of Steve and finally hooked his fingers into Steve’s waistband, pulling his sweats down to his ankles and discarding them in the pile of his own clothes. There was a detour that had to be made once he set his eyes on Steve sitting there in just his Calvin’s and a t-shirt, looking comfortable and sweet and mouthwatering. 

“Missed you,” he said softly, running his cheek over Steve’s thigh, hands inching up under his shirt to roam over his ribs as he fit himself between Steve’s legs. The outline of Steve’s cock in his underwear had him leaning further up, mouthing at it like he was starving, the cotton wet under his tongue.  
***

Steve sat back on the bed, his pale blue t-shirt stretched out across his chest as his heart rate immediately picked up to a staccato at seeing Billy completely naked in just a matter of seconds. Lowering himself down on his knees in front of Steve, and really, Steve really couldn’t object to this as a birthday present. At all. This beautiful, perfect Hercules he called boyfriend rubbing a scruffy cheek against the soft hairs of Steve’s thigh. The sweetest boy he’d ever met.

He was already half hard just looking at him, before he’d even been touched. As Billy changed direction to mouth at the head of Steve’s cock – right where he was already darkening the white cotton with pre-come – a gasp rocked out of Steve, got him leaning back onto his elbows on the mattress. Twisting up his fingers in the duvet, cock giving a kick under Billy’s attention. Something about having the barrier of wet cotton between his skin and Billy’s hot, seeking tongue made it even hotter, had a whimper leaving Steve’s mouth. Hips stuttering just a little against the mattress, making it squeak. 

“Oh…” He sighed. “Mmmh….missed you too…” The whimper trailed off into a half moan, head rolling back on his neck, eyes closing for a second to focus on the sensation of Billy’s wet mouth.  
***

Billy’s eyes closed in unison with Steve’s, one hand reaching for one of Steve’s and bringing it to the back of his head. He encouraged him to press down before leaving it there, giving him an idea of what was to come. First he wanted to savor it though, wanted to mouth and suck at Steve’s cock through his underwear because he could, because he got to have it for himself. 

After a minute it wasn’t enough and he peeled Steve’s underwear down to his ankles, leaving it there in favor of licking up the underside of Steve’s cock. The taste of it without any barriers of clothing made him sigh in something like relief, fingers stroking Steve’s ribs before latching on, mouth lowering down on Steve’s cock until it nearly hit the back of his throat. 

He’d never considered it to be something he wouldn’t be able to do, not with his track record. Problem was Steve was huge, the kind of dick you had to actually practice on and—he’d definitely been practicing. The short lurch of his stomach and the gag that followed didn’t bother him, filled his head with fog instead. Turned him soft and pliant, eyes watering as he looked up at Steve and kept still, waiting for Steve to latch onto his hair and take a little.  
***

Steve let out a huffy breath as Billy’s tongue raked over the sensitive skin, laving up along the underside like a lit brand. Steve gasped, his cock already completely full, hard and leaking under Billy’s ministrations. His fingers, trembling slightly, tangled up into Billy’s hair at his coaxing, and he tugged the hair tie from those curls to toss it somewhere at the wall before he really got his fingers tangled up deep in Billy’s hair. Blunt nails scraping gently over his scalp as Steve’s hips lifted a little more off the duvet, ass clenching up as the head hit the back of his throat. 

He could feel the second Billy grew softer around the edges, letting Steve take some kind of control. When he got his eyes back open to gaze down at him, mouth open and panting hungrily, wanting, he convulsed his fingers in those curly strands once. Drawing him down, but gently – nothing like the first time they’d done anything like this, the first time Billy let him take control. Being in love and worrying over that same throat did that to him, he guessed, but he’d never push and never take more than he wanted Billy to give – even if Billy was eager to give it all the same. 

Steve bit at his lower lip, those whiskey dark eyes locked on Billy’s of such bright blue – like robins eggs – but just watching as he lowered down over Steve’s dick, dripping with spit and swallowing him down, had Steve’s eyes rolled up back into his head. Groaned desperately from deep in his chest cavity. Fingers twitching in Billy’s hair – pleasure shocking all the way up his spine, awash over his skin, the bundle of nerves in Billy’s mouth on absolute fire.

“B-Billy, oh my god – oh, oh god B – feels, feels good. Baby, d-don’t ss…sstop..”  
***

Billy waited until the second time he heard Steve telling him not to stop to do just that, though even he was a bit reluctant. He got Steve to shift enough that he could toss the underwear aside and stood up off of his knees, crawling onto the bed and into Steve’s lap instead. 

“Got a better idea, sweetheart. Here, let’s get that shirt off,” he said, tugging at the bottom of Steve’s blue shirt until it was up and over his head. “Wanna fuck myself on that big dick of yours, thought about it all day, thought about you all day.”

He fished around in the bedside table blindly until his fingers closed on some lube, eyes too busy taking Steve in—the way his pupils were blown, the heavy lift and drop of his chest as he breathed, the dig of Steve’s cock up against his ass. He coated his first two fingers and put his right hand behind him, mournfully bypassing Steve’s cock to slip his index finger inside of himself, breath catching. 

“Th—at sound okay?”  
***

Steve’s breath hitched in his chest as he stared up at Billy all wide-eyed like some total virgin or something, because honestly, it was a little overwhelming seeing Billy like this. From this angle. A seasoned veteran Steve may have been, but it was like, like looking at something far too perfect for him – the perfect plane of his belly, the way his nipples perked up in the coolish air of Steve’s room, the roll of his shoulders as he reached behind himself. All gilded skin and this pink, soft mouth, his cock filled out like an open invitation. Steve’s pupil dark eyes went even wider at that, his breath picking up even more despite himself. 

His gaze flickered back up to Billy’s eyes then back down to where he was reaching, touching himself from behind, and Steve squirmed a little beneath him. He didn’t think Billy’d actually remembered – when they’d fucked on the couch over at Billy’s place, and Billy’d gotten himself ready before Steve’d even shown up. Steve had told him he wanted to see it next time. 

Holy shit. Steve mumbled something akin to that, his heart fluttering in his throat, and he could feel his spit-slick cock twitching in undeniable interest as Billy started to work himself open on top of Steve. He was pretty sure his brain was about to short circuit. Total overload. It was freaking amazing.  
Steve’s hands wandered over Billy’s hips, fingertips digging into the firm skin there and kneading a little, like some kind of encouragement. 

“Yeah, yeah – more than okay.” Steve nodded a little dumbly, watching, looking a little shell-shocked and more than a little aroused. His cock throbbing where it was still pressed against Billy’s ass, alongside busy fingers. “You need any help there?” He asked breathily, still entirely attentive on the golden boy above him, fingering himself open like it was easy. He leaned forward just enough to grasp at Billy’s waving dick, and slide the rough of his tongue over the head - licking away pre-come from the slit.  
***

Billy paused his ministrations to groan, held completely still for a moment as he looked down, free hand coming up to shift his curls to the other side of his head. He knew he must look a little miserable with want, torn between continuing and just staying that way, letting Steve’s tongue run over him. It was distracting at best and totally paralyzing at worst, had him reaching out to grip Steve’s shoulder in some kind of fond warning. 

“Uh uh, I’m—too worked up,” he admitted in a quick pant of breath, a second finger joining the first, spreading and curling until he was freezing up for a different reason entirely. 

That telltale pressure of arousal started up in his gut, building and spreading like wildfire the longer he massaged at his prostate, head tipping back and eyes rolling into his head. It was nice, letting Steve see this, though Steve likely didn’t know how often Billy did it, or how often Steve was in the forefront of his mind when he did. Not much different than right now, fucking himself on his fingers in earnest, letting every sound slip out unselfconsciously—thinking only about the person under him, the cock up against his ass. 

***

Steve took the warning at face value, and he settled back to let Billy have full control – over Steve, over himself. Sated with the taste of Billy on his tongue, for the moment. He actually lay back, tugging a few of the pillow back from over his shoulder so that he could stuff them under his head. He got his hands back on Billy’s thighs, rubbing over them from knee to hipbone, and back down again, in long sweeping motions, encouraging still. Watching with tight lungs and huge, star struck eyes as Billy fucked himself open on his own fingers atop Steve, straddling him. 

Steve swallowed hard, as Billy’s head was thrown back, making his Adams apple jut out at an angle, sweet, open, pleasured sounds spilling from his lips. Sounds that made Steve squirm again, made his cock ache to be touched, had him rutting a little against Billy’s ass for some kind of friction. He’d also been a very audible learner, even compared to visual, or so he’d been told – and it didn’t seem so different in bed. 

Sometimes he thought he might be able to come off of just sound alone. And the saccharine little whimpers and moans sweetening the air, already scented with ambrosiac pheromones, had Steve hungry for him. Needing him. Wanting in some primal way to be the one making those sounds. Wanting to touch him, wanting to draw Billy’s pleasure to the surface himself. 

“Christ,” He murmured. “Look at you. God you’re gorgeous., working yourself open for me. Want you – c’mon baby, want you, so bad. Please. Please.”  
His hips stuttered up again off the mattress, rubbing his dick against one of Billy’s asscheeks like a reminder of it’s presence.  
***

Billy sighed at the praise and could feel Steve’s eyes on him, watching him, knew he looked hungry without even opening his own. He could tell by the way Steve sounded, that tone he got that sounded pleading but was mostly just heated. The one he’d pictured before that night on Steve’s living room rug, touched himself just like this to the idea of it. 

He slipped his fingers out of himself to curl around Steve’s cock and give it some attention, coating it with the lube he’d been using for himself. When he was satisfied he lifted his hips and guided it to his ass, lowering down painfully slow. Some aborted sentences left him halfway through, the angle always so different like this, just on the side of painful in the way he liked. 

“I—I’m—“

It was all he could really say before he was panting too hard to speak, Steve bottoming out inside of him and rendering him speechless. His hands flew out to steady himself and landed on Steve’s shoulders, gripping hard as he adjusted, the barest flicker of discomfort on his face. It was gone as soon as it came, as soon as he started to roll his hips, curls falling into closed eyes.  
***

Steve’s head dropped against the pillow as Billy lowered himself down over Steve, reminding himself not to lift his hips – holding himself steady and let Billy control his own center of gravity to ease himself down on top of Steve’s dick. Strong fingers curled against Billy’s thighs, just enough to leave soft little white marks where his fingertips pressed. Giving him added support until Steve was buried in him to the hilt. 

He gasped for air, a moan humming past his lips as he gazed up at Billy, watching through half lidded eyes. Lashes lowered, all love-drunk bedroom eyes. Watching the way his sandy blonde curls swayed above Steve, dusting his forehead, and the way his hips started to roll forward like a wave, taking Steve in deeper, before lifting enough to get some motion going. Steve’s breath stuttered in his lungs as he gazed up at Billy, full of eager adoration and unveiled desire. His fingers massaged against Billy’s thighs, helping to pull him down when Billy dropped again.

“Love you,” Steve whispered up at him, lashes fluttering. His hand searched out one of Billy’s in midair, interlocking their fingers tight, palm to palm.  
***

“L-ove you,” Billy echoed, big and all encompassing emotions rushing to the surface over Steve’s hand in his. More capable of flattening him than fucking ever was—just two soft words and a hand grasping for his own. “I love you, I love you.”

It continued like a mantra, his eyes locked with Steve’s, his too shiny to be anything but unshed tears. No one had ever made him feel so absolutely grateful for their existence the way Steve did, no one came close. He was so thankful that Steve was alive, that he’d been brought into the world nineteen years ago, and he shuddered to think where he would be without him. Didn’t bear thinking on even for a second. 

His pace picked up to something frantic and greedy until he was bouncing in Steve’s lap, though it wasn’t accompanied by any loud moans and good tosses of his hair, not like the guys before Steve had gotten. Steve got something else—high and soft whines, a face completely open with love and want, a hand that squeezed his like a lifeline, squeezed harder as his arousal built.  
***

Steve kept their fingers laced together tight, connecting them in two ways, really. His hips rolled against the mattress, socked feet braced against the bedraggled blankets as he crooked his knees up. Really letting Billy settle fully into Steve’s lap, even as he was lying down.

They moved together easily, though Billy had full control, riding Steve with ease. Steve’s other hand eventually left Billy’s thigh to lick his palm and grasp Billy’s cock – even if, with the way Billy was moving, with something like desperation, like he was chasing something, there wasn’t much that Steve could do but hold on. Giving his dick some sort of friction, hot, stiff and heavy in Steve’s hand – both of them already starting to get a shimmer of sweat, humidity fanning around them from two over-excited bodies. 

Steve wasn’t gonna last, he knew – not long at all, probably. It felt too good, Billy was too tight, and their hands were linked together – and it was all these sounds, of slapping, sweaty skin, Billy’s necklace tinkling as it bounced along with him, and those intoxicating, heady sounds Billy made. 

“Mmmh – B-bab- not gonna, make it – feels good. You feel – so - good.” Steve gasped up at him like they were both running in a marathon, thumbing over the head of Billy’s cock, rubbing at the pre-come dribbling there, running it along the sensitive ridge underneath. Tightening his grip just a little, adding pressure, getting a few good strokes in. 

It hit him faster than he thought it would, a buzzing in his spine, a pressure in his belly, and his back was arching against the bed like a cat’s. Eyes snapping shut as his head rocked back into the pillows. His throat clenched up as he moaned, hips blinding rutting up into Billy. Fingers twitching around his cock, slick with spit. He emptied pleasure out into Billy’s ass, the vision behind his eyelids absolutely whiting out as funny little whimpers were half swallowed down, babbling Billy’s name like a prayer.  
***

Billy followed just a few moments after, clinging to Steve’s shoulders, nails biting into soft, freckled skin as he came between them. He gave a few more erratic thrusts into Steve’s hand before he had to push it away, hot pleasure turning into whimpers of his own and flinches of overstimulation. It took a second for him to lift his hips up, Steve’s cock sliding out of him with a soft, mournful sound before he curled up right on top of him. Fingers reaching up to run through Steve’s sweaty hair, curling and uncurling lazily. 

He thought of Steve’s twentieth birthday next year, what parts of it would look like this year. What parts of it would be different—their own place, their own bed that they shared every day. Waking up to Steve all of the time, having someone to comfort him and someone he could give the same to. Every day. Every year. Any time. 

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”


	11. Chapter 11

Steve finally had a day off – it felt like it had been forever. But he kept telling himself, more money, more money for their deposit and first months rent. The closer they were to getting their own place. He was actually pretty confident they could finally afford it without messing with Billy’s nest egg, which Steve had flat out refused to do. 

They could manage without it, especially with both of them working. He’d gotten a job at the mall, even when his dad had frowned at him getting a shitty job in retail - but he was actually pretty happy with it. It was at Tape World, and he could literally talk about music all day, and he could even get in some of the first orders for some new LP’s or cassettes and it was kind of the best. 

He even worked with this girl that was nice enough, he guessed, and they had a lot of the same shifts. She liked to give him shit a lot, but sort of in a friends way? He didn’t think Robin liked Billy much though, and he thought that was mutual from what he’d seen. Even if she really liked the same kind of music.

During one of their first days off at the same time in like, a couple weeks, Steve was hanging out at the snack bar, waiting on a couple of Icees and a funnel cake – blue raspberry icees for both of them, and extra powdered sugar on the deep fried dough. He balanced both of them carefully as he headed back towards their loungers at the poolside, focusing on having his arms full. Looking pretty good in his teal dolphin swim shorts, he figured, Ray-ban’s thrown down over his eyes, canary yellow flip flops slapping against the concrete. 

The day smelled like Banana Boat, chlorine, blue-raspberry, and lawn clippings. The kids were all messing around in the pool, splashing each other and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get them out of there until Adult Swim, and he wasn’t blowing money on melted icees for them. They’d survive. They’d probably swallowed half the pool water by now. He’d already scolded Dustin about it, who’d half choked because they kept fooling around. 

He settled down next to Billy, who was laid out to sun himself like a big old house cat. He pressed the bottom of the ice-cold cup against the dip of Billy’s back, just between his little dimples, smiling down at him with blue tinted lips.

“Thirsty?” He asked with a cheeky look down at his boyfriend. 

The flimsy paper plate was settled on the lounger alongside Billy’s chest, as Steve tickled at his side with the other hand, trying to rouse him from tanning. Steve could already feel his own shoulders starting to burn, even if they’d already put sunblock on him three times. Even the bridge of his nose was turning pink.  
***

Billy yelped and swatted lazily at Steve, squinting from behind his sunglasses. He’d ditched his aviators in favor of a pair of pink sunglasses he’d snagged from Max, something that had started out as spite but very quickly and very secretly turned into a genuine fondness for them. They definitely looked good with his white Speedo, even if Mike had pretended to throw up and Will had turned as red as a fucking tomato. He knew they did. 

“Hey—hi,” he said, taking Steve in and smiling, pillowing his cheek on his arm before turning over onto his back. “Mhm, I am. Well, that guy by the pool in the hat too. Eyes on my ass the whole time.”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and reached for the funnel cake, taking a bite and chewing with his mouth open. It felt fucking amazing to have a day off at the same time as Steve for once, a whole day they got to spend together. So good he could ignore Dustin squawking from the pool, trying to get Steve to watch him do a cool move.  
***

Steve glanced up at that, searching out the guy in the ugly straw hat – the kind his grandpa would totally have worn and thought he was hip – but this guy wasn’t some grandpa, he was maybe his dad’s age. He had weird tan lines, too. Steve’s mouth dipped into a brief frown, a faint line forming above the bridge of his shades, and for a second – he could swear the guy had looked right back at him. But it was difficult to tell with the sunglasses.

Steve let his eyes drop back down to Billy in his sinful fucking speedo that Steve couldn’t look at him too long in or he’d totally pop a very apparent boner in his own tiny shorts. It was even worse because Billy knew he looked freaking amazing, and Steve didn’t exactly want to add any more to his already bursting ego, but it was pretty difficult to not drag him into the changing rooms and do him in one of the stalls. Well. Okay yeah they’d already done that, but, it was difficult not to do it again. Steve stuffed a piece of the funnel cake in his own mouth, trying not to look at that weird guy again. Something about him gave Steve the creeps.

“Thirsty, huh? And hey uh, isn’t that the guy – you know – that we saw when we were here last weekend, after I got off work? He was just standing against the wall for like…all afternoon. Seems…kinda weird. Right?” He said around the piece of funnel cake, powdered sugar dusting his bare chest as the kids started shouting ‘Marco!’ and ‘Polo!’ from behind him. 

He thought of those bizarre people that Nancy and Jonathan had told him about, in that park. The ones from the lab. Like some kind of pod-people. This guy reminded him of that. He was sure he’d seen him around, in passing, but he didn’t know who he was. And Steve Harrington knew everybody in town.  
***

“Nah, not that weird. I do look pretty great. I told you there were closet case dads all over Hawkins,” Billy said with a shrug around another mouthful, crossing his ankles and reaching for his icee next. “Hey, you said something about a special surprise didn’t you?”

He pushed his garish sunglasses up to the top of his head and took a sip, setting it back down in favor of looking Steve over. They still saw each other but for the last little while it hadn’t been much. Not many instances of anything more than a day together, sleepovers a little more rare lately. It made him a lot more appreciative when he did get to see Steve, that was for fucking sure. 

Especially in the summer. Especially in those shorts.  
***

“Hmm.” Steve made a non committal sound in the back of his throat about the dude being some closet case checking out Billy – maybe it was really that. 

Maybe this was just Steve being a paranoid psycho again, and he hadn’t done anything stupid like breaking a TV set in like, months. Didn’t need to go down that path again. He was being jumpy for no reason. Steve shook his head a little as if to clear it and nudged himself a little closer against Billy on the lounger from where he sat on the very edge. He sipped at his icee too, slurping it through the straw and squinting down at Billy. 

“I mean the shades do add a certain touch to your speedo.” He said, and like, normally it might have sounded like he was being sarcastic with that set of words, but he sounded more thoughtful about it like he’d given it some thought. “Like a pop of color.” Maybe the old guy was checking him out. 

Steve blinked and perked up, nodding instantly at the reminder. “Oh! Hey yeah, I was. Drumroll please!” He patted against Billy’s washboard abs like a little drum for a second and then reached over to dig something out of his little drawstring backpack. He pulled out a copy of The Hawkins Post from yesterday, and held it out to Billy to take. Pinching it on either side like he was proud of it, showing it off, even. He was grinning, showing that even his teeth were a bright shade of blue, bouncing a bit against the lounger like he couldn’t quite sit still. The newspaper had a very apparent dog-earred page, just waiting for Billy to open it.  
***

Billy tried to swat at Steve one more time at the patting of his abs but his hand stopped mid air at what Steve was holding out. He tilted his head in confusion but took it anyway, folding it back at the designated spot, his face going blank before brightening like a floodlight, smile matching Steve’s. 

Apartments. Tiny places, studios and one bedrooms in Hawkins for rent. Particular ones circled with red. He nearly got distracted inspecting each of them before he realized Steve was waiting, practically vibrating. 

“You’re serious?” he asked, blinking with big eyes at Steve, smile growing bigger each second. “It’s time now?”  
***

“Yeah! Dead serious.” Steve burst out, squirming in his spot and shoving his own shades up on top of his huge cloud of hair so that he could meet Billy eye for eye. 

He reached out to tangle their pinkies together where one of Billy’s hands still rested against the lounger, like holding hands, but not quite as apparent. Even if they were out to the whole town or whatever, it probably wasn’t worth extensive PDA if someone was gonna be an asshole about it.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner. But I just got my third paycheck, and I think it’s finally enough. I circled all of my favorites, and I brought the sharpie – I thought you could circle any you like too? I mean, we don’t have to here, but maybe at the diner after? I talked to Hopper - he said he has some old furniture we could use down in his crawl space, and that he’d help us move stuff. We just need to tell him when.”

“Steve!” Dustin shouted from the edge of the pool. “Are you getting in the water any time this century?! We need even numbers for a game!”  
***

“You go play with your kids,” Billy said with a wave of his hand, effectively dismissing Steve as he found the sharpie in Steve’s little backpack. “I’m gonna—I’d really like to take a look.”

He watched Steve go and then engrossed himself in the paper, flipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. Definitely because it was too bright out and not at all because he was getting misty eyed about a fucking newspaper. Not at all. He circled over every apartment that had a bathtub and underlined them for good measure, in the middle of trying to remember exactly what cross streets his work was on in relation to one particular apartment when he registered someone close by, someone with their eyes on him. 

“Can I help you, man?”

He said it without looking but didn’t get a response, eyes flicking over to—the fucking hat guy. His eyebrows furrowed then and he straightened up in his chair, setting the paper down in his lap and making himself a bit taller. 

“Listen dude, I’m flattered,” he said, his expression saying anything but, sunglasses pushed back up so the guy could see just how unimpressed he was. “But I’m really not fucking interested.”

All he got for that was another long stare, one that made Billy decidedly uncomfortable. This guy was obviously a bit of a creep and he had to keep himself from standing up, not wanting to get his hackles raised too high. It didn’t matter in the end because the guy just—walked off. Not even back to his spot. Just...gone.  
***

Steve had wanted to linger with Billy to see which ones he circled, ask him questions, and make a thing of it, but he knew that sometimes Billy liked his space too – and this way he could really take his time without having Steve breathing down his neck. They could always discuss it later and merge their circles and see what fit – so he joined the kid’s game, playing water volleyball on either side of a little floating net on the other side of the pool. 

Steve had just spiked a ball back over and almost smacked Lucas in the side of the face with it – they really weren’t sports oriented, he didn’t know why he was playing this with them in the first place – but as he jumped up he caught a glimpse of the red brick wall where hat-man usually perched. He wasn’t there. 

Steve hit the water again and glanced around, instantly searching out hat-man. When he saw him, something cold, like dread, settled into his stomach. He got hit in the side of the head with the volleyball with a ‘thwap’, head jerking to the side – but he barely even responded as Lucas was like ‘man I’m so sorry! Hey! Steve?’ 

Steve didn’t head across the water – it would take too long. He went to the side of the pool that they were on, and hopped out, sloshing water everywhere, dripping all over the place as he sped-walked around the lip of the pool, heading straight for Billy’s lounger. He got the whistle blown at him for ‘No Running!’ but dammit – he tried to slow down but by the time he got to the other side of the pool, hat-man was already gone.

Billy looked all prickly and perturbed, uncomfortable, which Steve had seen from the water. He looked spooked. Steve looked around wildly, trying to see the guy, but he was gone. The kids were all suddenly gathered behind him, dripping everywhere, Mike holding the waterlogged volleyball that had slogged Steve in the side of the head.

“Steve! Hey Steve, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” Dustin asked.

“Yeah man you look like you saw a ghost.” Lucas added.

“Is everything okay, Billy?” Will asked in his soft voice.

“You know this means we won, right? Losers forfeit.” That would be Mike.

“Where did he go? Hey Billy, where’d that guy go? Did he say anything to you?” Steve asked, zeroing in on Billy with an intense gaze. “That guy gives me the creeps. Something – I don’t know. I don’t know him. Did he say anything? Are you alright?”

“What guy?” Dustin piped up again.

“That – that guy, this guy in a stupid straw hat, he’s always over against the building in the same spot.” Steve gestured aimlessly towards the community pool building with the changing rooms and snack bar, the window frames painted sky blue, along with the awning.

“Wait, do you mean like - ?” Dustin started, but cut himself off short.

Steve shrugged noncommittally, glancing around and getting up on his toes, shoving wet locks out of his eyes to try and see if he could spot the guy, but he’d just...vanished.  
***

Billy spared Will a small smile that he hoped was reassuring, thin and without teeth but there at least. He couldn’t really muster up one for Steve and shook his head in answer instead. Everyone seemed very interested and he suddenly felt underdressed, reaching into Steve’s backpack and pulling his white shirt back on. 

“He didn’t say anything—that’s what creeped me out I guess,” he said, eyes following Steve’s to the spot the guy had been standing up against the wall. He lifted a finger and pointed out toward the parking lot, let his hand hit his lap after. “Told him I wasn’t interested or whatever and just...walked off. After staring at me like a fucking creep, ‘bout as far away as you are from me now.”  
***

Steve’s frown deepened, a huge furrow forming along his brow as he followed Billy’s finger to the lot past the chain-link fence, searching the parked cars baking away in the sun. But he didn’t see anybody. But after as second, a shiny black buick, with ominious tinted windows, pulled out of the lot from the other side, going real slow as it hit Main and pulled out towards downtown. Something prickled over Steve’s scalp. 

He could feel all the kids staring with him, silent for once. 

Dustin was yanking on his wrist like a four year old tugging on his mother’s dress to try and get his attention, even when Steve tried to wave him away, shrugging him off. Intent eyes still locked on the last spot the buick had been seen. He blinked a little sluggishly, his brain feeling slow, as he turned back to Billy with fuzzy eyes, still blinking and rubbing at one. 

“You said he didn’t say anything? Nothing?” Steve asked – his voice felt slow too, like it was molasses oozing past his teeth. He reached out on an impulse, snagging his fingers in the white cotton of BIlly’s shirt, giving him something to hold onto. Billy was fine. He was right here.  
***

“Yeah, I—he didn’t say anything,” Billy said with another shake of his head, looking down at Steve’s hand and frowning. “Can we just hang out? Not really a stranger to creeps, guys. It’s not a big deal. Steve, you wanna do the diner?”

He rummaged into Steve’s backpack to slip into a pair of cutoffs, trying just to busy himself with the newspaper, chewing on his lip. It was way too quiet at the pool suddenly and it was unnerving, had his hackles raised worse than just a few minutes ago. Wasn’t that interesting to him to think on it much further, not the weirdest or even the creepiest thing that had ever happened to him. 

“Please, seriously. I don’t want my one blessed day off to be talking about some gross dude eyeballing me.”  
***

Something anxious twisted sickeningly in Steve’s chest as he realized that Billy didn’t know what had just happened – Steve’d told him some, but he hadn’t told him a lot. But he had told him anyone. Right? Like he’d told him the postman could totally be a suspect, even. Don’t tell anybody anything where wandering ears could listen in. Not even max. 

And maybe that’s not what this was, or at least he’d thought, for a second – jumpy as he knew he could be, but the kids didn’t help the situation, getting all tense and then huddling together and whispering together and glancing over their shoulders. Made him feel even worse. His arm was sore where Dustin’d been yanking on it. 

He rubbed the side of his head, which was also a little achy. Freakin’ volleyball. He frowned down at himself and nodded at Billy, idly scratching at his stomach and glimpsing around them from beneath his lashes – seeing if anybody was watching them as he knelt over to grab his backpack. He checked both sides of it, top to bottom, and dug around in it a little. Had the guy touched anything? Had he planted a bug? Jesus, Steve knew he’d end up over in Pennhurst, or even worse, living like that reporter Nance knew, Murray Bauman. Total nutcase. He just knew it. He didn’t want to freak Billy out, but Steve was feeling more and more sure after seeing that shady freakin’ buick. 

“I don’t think that’s what it was.” Steve said in a low voice, throwing Billy a meaningful look with hooded eyes as he dried himself off quickly with his towel. 

He wrapped it around his waist, and threw the backpack on over his shoulders, hanging onto the rope straps. “But, but yeah. Yeah sorry. It’s probably…maybe it’s nothing. Not trying to mess up the day.” He was frowning somewhere at the cement, dotted with wet footprints, and glanced over at the kids, who were still discussing in hushed tones. “Alright break up the huddle, guys, let’s go. You want burgers or what?”  
***

The diner was a very welcome respite for Billy—from the tone of Steve’s voice or him getting shifty eyes, from the creep at the pool. Steve looked a little more settled once he got some food in him and it put Billy a lot more at ease. Enough for him to be cuddled up into his side in their booth, the kids all having left for the arcade, days free with no school until September. 

“I really like this one. I was thinking I’d call them in the morning before work,” he said, pushing the newspaper over to point down at an enthusiastically circled part. “It’s a one bedroom and it has a bathtub. I think it’s cheap because it has fucking carpet in the bathroom but I can overlook the tackiness for a bathtub and being able to afford to eat.”

He leaned over it and smiled at the tiny, grainy photo that honestly showed nothing. It didn’t really matter what it looked like, he just had a good feeling about it. And he never got good feelings about things. 

“That be okay? If I called them, maybe popped in before I went to work?”  
***

Steve peeked over the newspaper with Billy, his fingers curling against his sturdy thigh between them, hanging on to the ragged end of his cutoffs for a little skin to skin contact, hidden from prying eyes. He smiled down at Billy, not at the paper, just at the look on his face – the soft, sweet smile he had that made Steve’s heart melt into putty, moldable just for him. He swiped his thumb over Billy’s thigh in a tiny circle. 

“It’ll be weird to vacuum the bathroom, but hey, food is good, so I’m all in. Does this mean we can take baths together? I only have a shower at my house, so a tub would be really nice. Oh bubble baths! Yeah.” He nodded, his half-dried hair flopping across his forehead. He’d tugged on a pale grey tank-top with a little ‘polo’ insignia on the breast pocket, still in his teal shorts and yellow flip flops. He was probably leaving a damp imprint of his ass on the booth beneath him. “That’s totally okay. I’d really like to go see it.” He tipped his head as he studied the address. “I think I know where this is at, it’s a few streets over from Main and Raven, close by where Dustin lives. He’ll never leave.”

He grabbed for his milkshake, draining some of the last of it out with an annoying sound. “Oh hey, I wanted to ask. The fair is opening next week - we have a county fair every summer. I was thinking maybe we could take the kids? Or it could just be us. Or both, and we could just send them off with tickets and do our own thing. I’ve been craving cotton candy and corn dogs like you have no idea. El’s never been before, either, I thought it could be fun to introduce her to the essential fair food group.”  
***

“No, I’d like that—dads taking their kids out to the county fair. Man, think I’d like watching her eat cotton candy even more,” Billy said, smiling and rolling his eyes a bit at Steve. Somehow he made the most aggravating things cute; snoring, slurping his milkshake, whistling Billy’s least favorite Duran Duran songs. “Do you want to come with me tomorrow? Look in on the apartment?”

He jiggled his thigh up against Steve’s and couldn’t help the smile on his face, half tempted to set his chin on Steve’s shoulder. He didn’t really give a shit anymore but Steve’s parents were still an issue, Steve’s father still an issue. Someday they’d be able to do what they wanted together but this was okay too, Steve’s hand moving over his skin and playing with his shorts. Going to the fucking county fair together. 

“I’ll wear a real upstanding outfit and everything, pinky swear.”

He did too, or something like it. Even buttoned his shirt up, though not all the way. Gathered his hair up with a bit more intention than when he was working in the garage, hopping on the balls of his feet as he watched Steve pull up to the apartment building. 

“Hi,” he said, chewing on his thumb momentarily and pointing up a set of stairs to an open door that looked like all of the others while his other hand waved two pieces of paper. “I talked to the guy—Greg—already, sorry. I got too excited and he gave me applications and I already filled mine out but I don’t know your middle name so I couldn’t fill out yours.”  
***

Steve had come straight from work, in a pastel yellow button up polo with short, upturned sleeves, and a pair of white jeans, rolled up at the cuffs to show off his equally white socks and new Nikes. His shades were hooked into the neck of his shirt as he climbed out of the Beamer, raising his eyebrows at Billy, a slow smile spreading over his mouth. He tried not to glance over his shoulder – he felt like he kept seeing ugly Buicks out of the corner of his eye today, but he knew it was his imagination. They’d seen a couple places already, but this was the one that was Billy’s favorite one to see, the one with the carpet bathroom. 

Steve headed straight for Billy, inspecting the pieces of paper being waved at him.

“Oh – but – “ Well they hadn’t actually seen it yet, but he guessed that was okay. “Well, my middle name’s actually really stupid.” Steve’s cheeks colored, as he looked up the staircase, like he could see into it from there. “You’ll laugh.”

He plucked the application from where it was being waved around, carefully folding it in half so he could fill it out once they were up there and he had something to write on. 

“You feel like this is the one? Already filled it out, have a good feeling? This gonna be our place?” 

Steve smiled at him like some kind of lovesick puppy, all big heart eyes and this goofy tilt to his mouth – he really liked seeing Billy happy. It was like some sort of crack, the best kind of drug, one that Steve wanted all the time. And he’d get to see it all the time, once they lived in their own place – maybe here – just working their summer jobs that would turn into real jobs that would turn into school, eventually, once Bea gave the go ahead. Maybe moving back to Billy’s home, what would be their home, so Billy could go to one of his fancy colleges and Steve could see the beach and possibly be a beach bum.  
***

“I—yeah, sorry, I’m sorry. I just got really excited is all,” Billy said, shrugging while his shoulders stayed hunched. “I really did get a good feeling and like, I don’t get those. Ever. I’m probably just being stupid but it’s—c’mon, cmon!”

He grabbed Steve’s hand first before realizing where they were, a bit too excited to be self aware enough. His hand moved to Steve’s upper arm instead and closed on his shirt, tugging gently as he hopped up the flight of stairs in front of Steve. He waved him in alongside him but didn’t go in until Steve was close, then peering inside. 

“Steve—“

He couldn’t really help himself and inched his way inside, looking around with big eyes and an open expression. Sure, it was empty. Sure, it wasn’t huge. But it was almost...cute. Simple looking, a little sliding glass door in the back where Billy pictured himself. He moved down the hall and into the bathroom, laughing so hard his stomach was clenching. 

“Oh my god.”  
***

Steve laughed, immediately getting drawn into Billy’s excitement at the place as he let him tug him along, rushing up the stairs and into the cozy little apartment. Steve spun around on the spot trying to take everything in at once, blinking and having a hard time not smiling. He loved it. He thought it was adorable. His mom would say it was adorable. It even had one of those cool radiators there in the living room that Steve thought looked old timey. As Billy’s laughter reached him, Steve hurried to catch up, eyes huge as he ducked his head around the door frame of the bathroom. He couldn’t help but crack up too, hanging onto the painted white frame before he came to join Billy on the carpet.

“Oh – oh my god,” Steve laughed, echoing Billy, throwing a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god it’s horrible. It’s really carpet. My mom would die. Ooh but look there’s a window.” Steve glided past Billy, fingertips trailing along his arm, still laughing as he walked across the plush carpeting – standing on his tiptoes to stick his nose up against the glass of the tiny window, laughter fogging it up. 

“And a tub.” He said to the glass, before he tipped his head around to look at his boyfriend, waggling his eyebrows. “Think it’ll fit us both?”  
***

Billy shrugged, pulling Steve back and into the tub with him, shoes on and applications still in his hand. He sank down into it and encouraged Steve to do the same, looking more than pleased once he realized they did both fit. Sort of perfectly—really perfect. They were inside so he could set the applications down and grab Steve’s hands for real, squeeze them and pull them close until he could run his nose over the top of them. 

“Fits us,” he said, pressing his lips against Steve’s knuckles and nuzzling them against his cheek. “We’re gonna have the same phone number now. No more calls from weird telemarketers for you, huh?”  
***

Steve did settle back into the tub with Billy, and even if his legs felt a bit long for it, crooked up, they did fit. He really felt like he couldn’t stop smiling, smiling like an idiot, as he let his weight rest on top of Billy – knew he could handle it. He spread his fingers before interlocking them with Billy’s, grasping them tight as they nestled up in the little porcelain tub together. 

“I think this place fits us.” He hummed, his eyes slipping closed with relaxation and perfection as the tip of Billy’s nose tickled over his knuckles. “Not just the tub. I like it. Your feeling was right, I think.” He leaned back to press a kiss to Billy’s sandpaper cheek, the back of his head resting against the tiled wall with Billy’s – his back pressed up against Billy’s chest, lanky legs kicked up at the knees. Billy had a little bit of grease on his temple, where Steve nosed.

“Mmmmhm…” He was nodding in agreement against Billy’s swept back curls. The same number – he’d never have to call Billy without calling their own number, the home phone, it made him shiver in excitement. 

But at the next thing Billy said, Steve felt himself stiffen against him. His face flinched at the mention of the calls. He didn’t think it could be a coincidence – he was sure it was that sketchy hat-man. It definitely wasn’t a telemarketer. 

But they were warning him not to say anything. To keep his fucking mouth shut. Don’t get too close, Steve figured. 

Something about...about a clause in the documents he’d signed. So he hadn’t told Billy what the calls were – just that they were strange. Something wasn’t right. But he didn’t go into further detail…they didn’t know Steve had told Billy. They couldn’t know. There wasn’t a way they could find that out. If they knew Steve’s said anything it...it would be bad. 

“Y….yeah. Telemarketers.”  
***

Billy was sure that Steve was excited, he was fucking sure. He was sure when they’d talked the night before and he was sure when he’d loaded up a couch Hopper donated into the skeleton of Neil’s stupid fucking truck. He was sure when he’d gotten to the apartment and smoked a cigarette while he waited, only—

Only. It had been two hours and Steve hadn’t showed up yet. The couch was stuck in the doorway after he’d lugged it all the way up himself, his whole body on fire in very vocal protest as he sat on the top step. Cigarettes weren’t really helping because he’d been sure. His mouth was twisted up on his face and his knee was jiggling but Steve wasn’t there to steady it or tap on it or anything. 

They’d signed forms together and hadn’t really had the last few days to see each other, work schedules and the exhaustion that followed kind of...getting in the way. So they’d just been excited separately. Maybe that was why Steve wasn’t as sure, wasn’t here now. Maybe he’d come later, and all Billy needed to do was get the fucking couch through the door.  
***

It’d gotten worse. Day by day, it got worse. That’s when they finally showed up at the house – Steve had just been getting out of the shower when the bell rang. For some reason, for some reason he’d thought it was Billy. He’d known that he was going to meet him, but maybe he’d gotten it mixed up – it wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten directions the other way around. So he’d headed down the steps in nothing but a towel around his waist, swinging the door open with a pleased, surprised grin on his face. But it had fallen away fast. Had him back up into the house as they crowded in after him, before he’d even been able to shut the door in their ugly fucking faces. 

His first instinct was to call Hop – he’d already told the man about what was going on, more like cried to him about it, like some little kid being bullied in the school yard. Hop had said to give him time. He’d fix it. He fixed everything. Steve trusted him.

Apparently…apparently there was some kind of a clause in the NDA he’d signed. Something about not ‘fraternizing’ with anyone outside of the specified people under Hopper’s pre-disclosed protection. No, that list couldn’t be added on to. The people who were involved were already involved, under Hopper’s protection. One William Hargrove was not on that list. Moving in with someone was not ‘allowed’ for a set amount of years, especially not in Hawkins. Also, they’d said, they would find out if Steve had told him anything.

That was the big thing – that Billy couldn’t know. Nobody else could know. It was dangerous, Steve’d known it was dangerous. They could come after them, after their families, just like he’d told Nancy months ago. They had to keep their mouths shut.

But the second he’d gone and fallen in love again he’d gone and blabbed just like Lucas. Max had been pulled into the shit with the Upside Down, but Billy? Billy was basically untouched. That was the way it should stay. Steve had never wanted to pull him into all of this. Never. But he loved him, wanted to be with him, he could keep his mouth shut – and live with him, he could. But now, now they were looking into if Steve had talked.

It wasn’t that different than what they’d told him on the phone, breathing into the mouthpiece like some kind of creeps. They told him to break the lease. Steve told them to go fuck themselves. They told him to cut off communication. Steve told them to go fuck themselves. They told him to think carefully. Steve’s response didn’t change. They told him if he talked, if Steve didn’t comply, Billy’d die. Steve’d ran, throwing himself into his car. 

Shrugging into the clothes he and Billy’d left in there from the pool – a pair of green shorts with no briefs and one of Billy's band tees with the sleeves ripped off. Barefoot. He didn’t realize he was shaking as badly as he was, barely able to keep his eyes on the road and off the rearview mirror. When he’d hidden the BMW behind the apartment, he’d looked all around before he slunk around to the front and found himself on the stairs. 

His hair was already dry, fraying around his head in an absolute mess, and he was staring up at Billy on the top step, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Billy? Die? Because of him? But he was right there. He was alive. He was fine. He looked pretty pissed, but he was fine – a couch half stuffed into the front door. Steve bit at his lip, half tripping on the lower step as he tried to get up to Billy. He probably looked drunk, eyes red rimmed, stumbling over himself and half climbing up the stairs on his hands and feet like when he’d been a kid and thought it was fun. He didn’t say anything at all - because everything was bugged. Couldn’t speak. Or breathe, for that matter. Like he’d forgotten how.  
***

“Where the fuck have you been? I had to lug the whole fucking couch up the—“

Billy stopped in the middle of his tirade, frozen still where he’d finally stood up, hands on his hips. They fell to his sides at the sight of Steve because Steve looked, he looked…

Like a fucking crazy person. Haphazardly dressed without any shoes on, shaking all over the fucking place and basically gasping for air. He abandoned his righteous indignation and held Steve up by the arms, pulling him past the couch and into the empty apartment. Trying to sit him down but Steve was stiff as a board, his own eyes wide. 

“Hey, hey sweetheart,” he said quickly, looking Steve over, checking every square inch he could see. “Steve. Steve, sweetheart, what—are you okay? What happened?”  
***

Steve let Billy usher him into the house – and fuck, he was so fucking sorry he’d made Billy lug the couch up, but seriously, there were so much worse things going on that Steve couldn’t even focus on it, and he still felt absolutely tongue tied, his eyes flicking from the globe lights to the radiator to the sliding screen door – a bug here, some explosive there, another entry that could be broken into.

He flinched under Billy’s hands as he checked him over, but when he was finished he just sort of latched onto his shoulders, quickly starting to hyperventilate. His hands scrabbling against Billy’s back as he wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face there and letting out a sob. 

His eyes were wet and he hadn’t even realized it, smearing salty, slick cheeks against Billy’s skin. He wouldn’t sit, couldn’t sit, but he stood with Billy, hanging onto him like some kind of a lifeline. He choked on another terrified sob, two years worth of built up, well-hidden terror rising to the surface. How pathetic was it that he could take a demodog, a pack of them, head on? 

But the shady fucking government was the thing that freaked him out the most? They were more unpredictable than an animal. They were more dangerous. They could throw you away and you’d never see the light of day again, and no one would be the wiser. They could cover up an entire town, murders, and plant your car states away. They could kill you and make it look like an accident, do it sniper style like with that one president that got shot. Nobody’d know. 

Steve was gasping for air, making wheezing sounds, clenching his eyes shut. His lungs were too tight, they hurt, he was dizzy. He hadn’t had a panic attack in a while, maybe not since he’d started dating Billy. Billy made him better. But he’d been teetering on the edge for a few days. He just shook his head at Billy’s question, almost violently.  
***

Billy staggered backwards with his arms full until his shoulder blades hit a wall, his grip not wavering from around Steve’s waist. He tried to make soothing noises after Steve shook his head, tried to stay still, be a pillar. Only he didn’t know what was going on or what had happened, couldn’t begin to guess. His hands lifted their death grip around Steve’s waist to pull his shirt up a little, try and get a look at whatever he could just in case. There wasn’t anything he could see, nothing but Steve sobbing in his ear and sounding more afraid than he’d ever been. 

“I—sweetheart are you hurt?” he asked, right in Steve’s ear because he knew he wouldn’t be able to hear him otherwise, Steve’s crying drowning out every other sound. “Did you get hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital?”  
***

Steve knew he was totally fucking gone but he couldn’t reign himself back in, and he couldn’t speak, didn’t even want to – those fuckers had their creepy recorders, Hopper’d told him, he’d found bugs, even in Steve’s house – he’d cleaned out all their houses a while back, but told them to be on alert. 

The creepers knew that Steve had gotten a place with Billy, and as much as he wanted it to be safe, he knew it wasn’t. Steve vaguely recollected that Billy had told him he knew morse code – his dad had taught him, a long time ago, an army vet. Steve’d learned it after all of that shit had gone down with Will – hell, they all had. They’d even made a game of it in Mike’s basement, teaching Steve and Max, because all the boys knew it. Steve’d made sure to make note of it that Billy knew. He didn’t know why. He’d just logged it away for a rainy day, he guessed. On the odd, offhand possibility that they might need it, just like why they’d all learned it. Steve shook his head again at Billy’s question, no, no not hurt – but Billy could be. And that’s what had him so scared. And it was all because of Steve. It could be because of Steve that Billy got hurt. 

With one trembling hand, the one that wasn’t still fisted into the back of Billy’s shirt with a steel grip, lifted a little to start tapping on Billy’s shoulder. It was almost all he could do to get a few taps out, trying to remember through the panicked haze of his mind, but he couldn’t get out much – his mind felt fried, scattered with adrenaline, and he couldn’t seem to think properly. He couldn’t think of a way out of this. He wanted to run away. Dustin would have told him his ‘fight or flight’ response had been triggered, and it was ‘flight.’ He unsteadily tapped out ‘Bad Men listening,’ moaning like an anxious animal into Billy’s throat.  
***

Billy frowned but kept still, the tapping becoming more familiar after a few seconds. He said one more time into Steve’s ear and thankfully that didn’t end in a shake of the head but another attempt. Bad Men listening. His eyes widened a fraction before he was moving them down the hallway and into the bathroom, easing them both into the tub even if Steve was still stiffened up. A reversed image from Mother’s Day, him behind Steve this time, gathering him up as tight as he could. 

“It’s okay, it’ll pass, okay? Just—try and breathe, try and breathe like me,” he said quietly, willing his heart to stop beating so fast, still not sure what the fuck was going on. “We’ll just—we’ll stay like this. We can stay like this for a while, okay? You don’t have to help me move the couch, okay? We can sleep on it tonight when it’s in, don’t have to go anywhere.”  
***

If Steve knew what it felt like to have an asthma attack, he was sure it would be this. As he got lowered down into the tub, half fighting it as they went down, he remained absolutely rigid even as Billy tried to ease him back. His fingers fisted up into the thighs of Billy’s jeans, curling there tight for some kind of grip, gasping for air. 

Wheezing lightly with each strained breath, letting out panicked, breathy moans when he could get enough air. As the curl of his spine met Billy’s chest, he was reminded of when he’d stayed behind Billy in the tub on Mother’s Day – their positions reversed. Steve’s eyes were screwed shut again as he tried to calm down, tried his best – It’ll pass. It’ll pass. 

He tried to match Billy’s breathing, but it was almost impossible, trying to suck in air through his windpipe that felt far too small. Constricted with panic. They were gonna kill Billy. Steve’s fingers flinched tighter in the denim. That sweet, soft voice in his ear, trying to soothe him, and they were going to kill him if Steve didn’t leave him alone. 

Steve let out another low sob, squirming against Billy’s chest, tears sliding down his temples. He was glad they could stay here. He felt a little better in the enclosed space – not out in the open. He nodded at what Billy was telling him, that they could stay, didn’t have to leave. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to be safe here, with Billy. His breath still came too fast, but he was trying, trying. 

“Billy, ‘m -sorry,-” He wheezed, voice tight, almost non-existent. A whisper. He was so sorry. Not just for the couch. It wasn’t that. That as a blip in the big picture. He was sorry he’d dragged him into this. Sorry he’d told. Sorry he’d let Billy get close enough for this to be a problem, when Steve’d signed his rights away. It wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair. He was sorry. 

He’d already lost Billy once. He’d gone -still-. He couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t see Billy empty. So still. He refused to be the cause. His mind was plunging down mouseholes like this problem was a maze, but he kept on running into dead ends. He didn’t know what to do.  
***

It was Billy’s turn to shake his head then, a hard motion followed by his arms scrambling to keep Steve close, about as close to his chest as possible. Steve didn’t need to be sorry about anything. Steve was the fucking sun to him and the last thing he wanted him to be sorry about was freaking out. Not when Steve had helped him so many times like this. 

“Not by yourself anymore,” he said firmly, giving Steve a squeeze. “Don’t you dare be sorry. Don’t be sorry, we’re at home. We’re home.”

He sacrificed his hold momentarily to peer over Steve’s head, lifting a hand to wipe at his cheeks. He kept shaking his head as he cleaned him off, breathing in deep and slow and hoping that Steve would follow suit eventually. Even if that meant sleeping in the tub instead, front door open and a couch stuck halfway in the doorway. Eventually.  
***

Not by yourself anymore - We’re home.

A sob ripped out of Steve’s chest, and he was outright just crying now. Probably gross crying, he figured, but he couldn’t seem to stop – real waterworks going at those two simple sentences. He didn’t want to be by himself anymore. 

He wasn’t supposed to be. Billy was there for him, he loved him, they were going to move in together. Home. Not some empty museum with just Steve, alone. This would really be their actual home, together, small and cute with carpet in the bathroom, but theirs. Steve wanted it so bad, he could taste it, he was living it – he was in the apartment, in Billy’s arms.

It was within his reach. He was touching it. But he felt like it wasn’t real. It was going to be snatched away from him. 

Steve shuddered and twisted around to curl against Billy’s chest, shoving his face into his shirt as he cried against him, wetting the cotton with messy tears. Holding on around Billy’s middle like he might drift away, fingers twisting with despair in his shirt. He desperately wanted everything to be okay – he needed this to be okay. But he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to make it right.

But as long as Billy didn’t say anything – and Steve had warned him, he had – they couldn’t make them? Right? They could be safe here? But no. Not in Hawkins. Never in Hawkins. Maybe nowhere. But Steve wanted to run away. He thought of Tommy, saying he always ran away. 

Maybe it was true. But he’d never wanted to so much in his life, and to take Billy with him. He tapped out against Billy’s shoulder, face hidden in his shirt, breathing ragged, tapping out ‘Run away?’ like a question.  
***

Billy startled a bit at the question, though more at the way Steve was crying at first. He was definitely more of a crier than Steve, cried at the drop of a hat if you’d let him. Hearing Steve cry like he was genuinely afraid was fucking awful honestly, like watching a dog get kicked or something. He couldn’t really wrap his head around why Steve would want to run away so he shook his head in response. 

Tapped -stay home- over Steve’s trembling shoulder in response. Shook his head again and squeezed tighter if possible, trying to figure out what might snap Steve back to himself. If it was possible even.  
***

Steve eventually did fall asleep in the tub, flopped on top of Billy, and it really was in reverse of Mother’s Day. He cried until he essentially wore himself out, eyes sore, and probably crusting up Billy’s shirt. He eventually ended up in sniffles and tired limbs, his head aching, before he passed out on top of Billy. Fingers still locked up tight in the fabric of his button up, like if he let go, Billy would be gone, even in his sleep.

Trying to feel safe at ‘home’ in the new place, but really, it’s because Billy was there. And he wanted Billy to be his home.

They could have been in a cardboard box and it’d be home with Billy there. Stay home. He’d started having nightmares again, a few nights past, of the Upside Down, faceless men in suits and gnashing teeth. He’d been pretty sleepless for those past few nights, away from Billy, which made it worse.  
***

They didn’t end up running away. They stayed home, in their new home. Together, even if—even if it didn’t really feel like it. Billy didn’t know what had happened because Steve hadn’t said when they woke up in the tub so they just...didn’t talk about it. Didn’t talk about much, really. 

He’d parked Steve on the couch once he’d finally gotten it inside and kind of kept him there. Turned the television on for him when it was inside and told him to just relax, ordered in and made sure Steve at least ate while he unpacked everything. It took twice as long as it should’ve doing it by himself but he didn’t—want to bother Steve. 

And Steve seemed bothered. But they weren’t talking about it. 

Billy was smiling and talking even when Steve wasn’t, desperately trying to fill the silent space of Steve next to him on the couch, in their bed. He’d expected...he didn’t know. He’d expected it to be a happier thing, finally moving in together. He’d expected them to christen every surface of it before the first week was out and he’d expected dancing to music out of his stereo in the living room. He’d tried both a few times but with no luck, just smiled and changed the subject, changed the channel. 

Except it had been almost three full days now and Steve was still being weird. Maybe he was just—what? Nervous? Thinking about the bad men he’d told Billy about? But he’d only said it the one time into Billy’s shoulder, with his fingers. So he just didn’t know. He didn’t really know anything. 

“Any plans tonight?” he asked with a smile, tucking himself up against Steve on the couch, the kind of smile that was starting to hurt his face the more he did it. “Or you stuck with me?”  
***

Steve knew it was bad. He knew HE was being bad. He knew he was ruining it. But it was so difficult to open his mouth and not kick in the TV and pull a Murray Bauman like at his parents house – in fact, he kept trying to avoid the thing but somehow kept getting parked in front of it and he wasn’t sure how. Time didn’t seem quite real and it sort of felt like it had that week after he’d been in the tunnels, kind of like some sort of shell-shock or something.

And he kept trying to interact with Billy the way he wanted to, but he could feel himself sinking into that depression that had eaten at him before he’d hooked up with Billy. They were back, and they were going to ruin everything, and Steve felt helpless. Hopper said he’d help, but nothing had changed. They’d found him at work, they’d found him in the grocery store parking lot, they’d cornered him in his car. Were probably watching them through the TV set like in a sci-fi movie. He couldn’t break the thing. They couldn’t afford another.

Steve just found himself curled up on the couch against Billy, feeling lethargic almost all the time, and he’d thrown up almost every day when he woke up, if he’d managed sleep. Dreams of Billy dying, dreams of Billy getting eaten alive, dreams of Billy being shot in the head like that president Steve couldn’t remember the name of. The young one. Horrible, vivid, very real dreams of blood spatter and guttural screams Steve couldn’t get out of his head.

Sometimes it turned into Billy choking on the floor, but the person holding him down was invisible, clutching at his throat, boots kicking. Sometimes it turned into Steve breathing into him, trying to bring him back, but he never came back. He stayed that way. Still. He’d woken up screaming, back like Billy used to after his dad had tried to kill him.

Dark circles bruised his eyes – he felt disconnected, like an unplugged arcade game, dark screened with an ‘out of order sign.’ Silent. Like he was in a dream world and nothing was real. And it made him so sad to think it, because, this was supposed to be perfect. He’d been so excited for this and he couldn’t even seem to enjoy it, or even really connect with it the way he wanted. He felt like there was this plate of glass between him and the world. Him and Billy. 

Steve lifted his eyes up listlessly from the television set and Family Ties from where he was furled up on the couch, blinking a little twitchily. He leaned against Billy, leaching on his body heat, pressing his nose against his shoulder, shutting his eyes and rubbing the tip against the fabric. 

“Whaddya mean stuck with you? ‘m never ‘stuck’ with you. Love you.” He said, trying to sound attentive. He didn’t like the way Billy’s smile looked, almost strained, and again…knew it was his fault. 

But he felt like his brain was stuffed with cotton. He blinked rapidly, trying to be an active participant again. He just needed to push past this. Like Billy’d said – It would pass. But he just kept thinking…they’d told him not to move in with Billy. 

He’d done it anyways. They told him to stay away. He hadn’t. What if they broke in here? Killed Billy in cold blood? Might even kill Steve, too, were probably not impressed that he wouldn’t follow simple instructions. If he was on Hopper’s stupid little list or not. It would be all romeo and juliet because Steve would follow after Billy. Maybe it’d be the other way around. Maybe Billy would take a few of them down with him. Steve could probably see that. He blinked at Billy again, squinting, his train of thought wandering in a loop. More realistically he guessed it would be like living the movie Scarface. He used to like that movie. Maybe not anymore.

“What do you wanna do tonight? We can make plans. Just wanna be with you.” He swallowed guiltily at saying too much, shoulders hunching up - glanced at the tv set like it was alive.  
***

Billy shook his head and then shrugged, like he couldn’t quite decide between the two. He was a little nervous and sort of just realizing it as he did it. He couldn’t really recall ever being nervous about wanting to have sex with Steve before but the last few attempts had him like that. He’d never been turned down so many times before in his life and it was fine, obviously it was fine if Steve didn’t want to. It just really seemed different when he’d pushed him off the last couple of times. Like Steve wasn’t disinterested exactly. 

He cuddled up closer and got his hands on Steve’s face, pressing a kiss to his jaw before tilting his head to make their lips meet. It was a slow, careful thing, but he knew it was a little hungry too. He’d really missed it, missed Steve, and there wasn’t any mistaking that in him he guessed. 

“No, no plans,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to Steve’s lips, one hand wandering to Steve’s chest. “Want you.”  
***

Steve let out a slow breath through his nose, dark lashes flickering closed as Billy’s lips trailed from his jaw to Steve’s lips. A flash of feeling. The last few times Billy’d tried – Steve’d done what Nancy used to do when she had a test coming up. Claimed a headache, said he was tired. Like an excuse. But it had been true. He couldn’t focus. 

It was funny, because, he thought when they moved in together they’d be doing it every day. In the morning, maybe an afternoon quickie, and of course at night. Always at night. On the couch, on the kitchen table, probably a kitchen counter top too. Definitely in the tub. On their little mattress on the floor. But they hadn’t done it once since they moved in. 

It had Steve’s stomach all twisted into knots. He didn’t even know if he could get hard, the stress too high. And that made him feel even worse. He hadn’t even jacked off. That hadn’t happened in like…well, ever. He was probably gonna get blue balls or something. That was a thing that happened, right? Steve swallowed anxiously as Billy’s mouth brushed against his again, callused fingertips playing over Steve’s chest, making him shiver. 

He didn’t want Billy to think Steve didn’t want him. He did. Always. He just didn’t think he could get hard. He did have a headache. He was tired. But he knew he wasn’t being fair. He was fighting to stay with Billy – he wanted to be with him. Steve’s lips moved slowly against Billy’s, reluctantly responding, the garble of the TV set in the background. 

“Sorry - I’m sorry I haven’t - “ Steve’s breath shuddered against Billy’s mouth. He reached out to tentatively grasp at Billy’s half undone shirt, tugging him closer. He was fighting for this. He wanted to be here. Now. Otherwise, what was he doing?  
***

“It’s okay,” Billy said quickly, trying to soothe shakiness of Steve’s voice with his own, pressing forward for another kiss. His fingers curled into the front of Steve’s shirt for some leverage as he eased himself into his lap, skating across his solar plexus. “It’s okay, just—please?”

It came out in a rush of breath but Steve wasn’t pushing him off yet so he tried to take it as a good sign, tried to deepen the kiss, get Steve’s lips to open. When he wasn’t shoved off then either he closed his eyes and did what he’d been doing—he pretended. 

He pretended that this was their first night in the place, that they were both excited to be in it with each other. He pretended that it wasn’t just him smiling and giddy over it, that maybe they’d just gotten done dancing together in front of the television. It made it easier for him to spread his legs on either side of Steve, to press and press and press until there wasn’t much of them that wasn’t touching. 

“Please.”  
***

Steve’s mouth slipped open with Billy’s tongue parting the way, meeting him halfway with his own. The tips working together in unison, and Steve let out a short pant as goosebumps bloomed across his arms. He realized they hadn’t really kissed like this in – days. 

How long? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remember. He wasn’t sure what today was. He just knew he’d worked today. Steve dropped his hands down to Billy’s hips where he was suddenly in his lap, thumbing over the bumps of his hipbones. He fucking loathed how Billy was asking please – it wasn’t like usual ‘pleases’ that Steve liked, because those were always asked like he knew he would get it. This was more like begging, like Steve wouldn’t put out, and Steve Harrington always put out. Always. He didn’t feel himself. 

“Anything.” Steve said, echoing the same word he’d told Billy months ago when he’d asked him ‘please.’ 

He just wanted to be with Billy. He just wanted to be happy in their new place and be with him forever – and he’d told him, he’d promised him, all the time, every year – he didn’t want to break that promise. Never. Steve’s mouth started to move a little more insistently, with a bit more fire behind the movements of his tongue, the slide of their lips. Spurred on by that thought. 

He nipped a little at Billy’s lower lip, drawing it out between his teeth before soothing it back over with his tongue. They were touching all over, connected in all the right places, and he could feel Billy already starting to get hard against him, felt his hard-on rubbing against his stomach. Steve tried not to think about the fact that he was woefully soft. He’d just give it another minute – it’d be fine. 

He slung Billy over to the side by the hips, laying him down against the couch so that Steve was atop him this time, one foot braced against the carpet, the other knee drawing up along his ribs on the opposite side. He didn’t break the kiss, not for a heartbeat or breath, allowing it to grow more heated instead. He felt too warm under his collar, hot with shame at not being able to get it up, before he tugged his shirt off over his head. Throwing it on the carpet, before he was fumbling with Billy’s lower buttons. Fingers trembling. Mouth immediately rejoining those soft pink lips he’d been neglecting.  
***

Something twisted in Billy’s chest, just on this side of painful. It was something hopeful and almost frantic, seeing some sign of life from Steve that he hadn’t in days. Anything pulled a soft sound out of him, something that sounded like he felt. Strained and desperate, scrambling for more and it shouldn’t have made his eyes sting. But you could be happy and almost want to cry—he’d cried because he was happy a few times in the last few months—so it was normal. 

He reluctantly let go of Steve to slip out of his shirt, to help a little. Steve’s hands weren’t very steady but it was okay, Steve wanted him. Steve said anything, just like he had back then and this was what he wanted. Was his anything. 

“I love you,” he said against Steve’s lips, legs bracketing him on either side and hands roaming down his back, now blissfully bare. “I love you, can I—can I touch you? Can I help?”  
***

Steve’s face burned with embarrassment, all the way up to the tips of his ears, washing across his chest and lighting up his neck. Horribly ashamed. But Billy’s hands across his back were light, making trails with his fingertips, and he didn’t sound mad. At least Steve didn’t think.

“Love you too.” Steve sighed back against Billy’s lips, cheeks aflame. Billy looked so bright eyed and eager beneath him, happy to help, and even if Steve was choking on embarrassment – what was he some fifty year old man? – he nodded. Curling his arms around Billy’s shoulders, fingers tangling up into the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“Y-yeah, please…I don’t, I don’t know why, what – it’s never…happened.” Steve’s eyes flinched shut, wincing. Mumbling against Billy’s plush mouth. “’s not, not you – I just…I haven’t been feeling good. I’m sorry. I want to.” When he was a kid, he’d always been told he said sorry too much. It was a habit he’d managed to break in middle school, but sometimes it came back around. It was all his fault.  
***

“It’s okay,” Billy whispered, shaking his head and pressing a kiss against Steve’s mouth that he hoped was reassuring. He didn’t like hearing it’s okay when he was upset and he didn’t want to make Steve pretend, not if—but Steve said it wasn’t him. He knew that Steve wasn’t exactly okay but he hoped Steve knew, hoped he could tell. That he meant it was okay to not be, to need help, to have a hard time. “I’ve got it, I’ve got you.”

He urged Steve on top him a little more heavily, tried to get him to settle his weight, not be so stiff. His hands moved to the front of Steve’s jeans, didn’t linger where Steve clearly wasn’t hard yet, just unbuttoned and unzipped until he could push them down to the tops of his thighs. He shifted on the couch and spread his legs, gave Steve something to lay on, to relax on, while he dug his wallet out of his front pocket. 

I’ve got it was the quiet mantra he stuck with, peppered in between kisses that he tried to make less hungry, less desperate. He kept saying it as he tore the little pack of lube open, kept saying it as he ran his fingers up and into the hair at the back of Steve’s head. He said it again when his index finger breached Steve’s ass, just up to the first knuckle, not fast at all because they had the time. 

They lived here now, so they had that time.  
***

Steve tried to let Billy’s ‘I’ve got it’s’ soothe him, tried to let it ease his muscles and allow himself to relax against his boyfriend, especially with Billy allowing Steve’s weight to settle atop him. His knees spread, where they fit Steve’s body perfectly between his thighs. 

Steve trusted Billy. More than he trusted anyone in this world, he trusted Billy. He had Steve. He had this. 

Steve really did try to manually relax his muscles, tried not to be embarrassed at his completely flaccid cock – which was weird, because he had the telltale prickle of arousal over his skin while he and Billy kissed, the tickle up his spine, but no action below the belt. Steve strained forward against Billy, his legs trapped below the thigh by the waistband of his undone jeans as a strong, lubed finger slid past the rim of his ass – it had been a while since the last time. 

He let out a soft, flustered sound, gritting his teeth a bit as he stiffened up at the foreign sensation. Fingers convulsing in Billy’s golden hair. But he knew it would steady out, that the sudden burn would become an ache, and the ache would become pleasure. He pressed a kiss to Billy’s mouth, tongue searching out Billy’s needily, to distract him from the burn – somehow it was worse when his dick wasn’t hard, like being stretched open was made more bearable when his front had all the blood rushing to it.  
***

Billy lifted his free hand to Steve’s face, cradling it in his palm and trying to give him what he was leaning forward for. He deepened the kiss as he slid his finger in further, kept it there for a few seconds before easing it in and out in a slow rhythm. He wasn’t really intending to stretch him for anything so it didn’t take much, didn’t need much to get his finger to curl. That come hither gesture they shared between them, a bundle of nerves to press against, to try and coax. 

“Have you,” he cooed, another kiss in between his words as his middle finger joined the first and curled. He knew Steve’s body didn’t readily accept it the way his did on a good day, tried to ease some of the rigidness out of him. “Not so bad, it’ll feel good. It’ll be good, sweetheart, there you go.”  
***

Steve’s breath hitched halfway through a kiss with Billy, caught in his lungs for a second as the burn eased and became more familiar, and Billy’s finger – soon to be fingers – curled. Pressing into that spot, and Steve whimpered a low ‘oh,’ a bright flame of white bursting to life behind his suddenly closed eyelids.

Billy -had him-, and he could feel himself really, actually, starting to relax above him now – allowing him to take some of his weight. Loosening up, just a little. His muscled ached with it, like he’d been carrying around too much weight for too long, and he was just realizing.

Probably the first moment he’d started to relax in days – he didn’t realize how tightly he’d been coiled, like a spring with nowhere to go, until that first touch. Steve’s breath rushed out of his lungs as Billy made that come hither motion again, telling him it’ll feel good. Calling him sweetheart. Jesus, he loved that word on Billy’s tongue. It was only for Steve. 

“Billy – “ Steve whined as pleasure lit him up again, back rolling and hips stuttering. He could feel his cock twitching like it was waking up after a long sleep. Like Billy was rousing it, slowly filling it out against Billy’s groin. Close enough that it was practically brushing against Billy’s already hard dick, a hot erection pressed into Steve’s lower stomach.  
***

Billy curled his fingers and held them there a moment, pressing up and up, almost digging in before starting a slow, hard petting motion. That was the thing about bodies he guessed, that by and large they did what you asked of them, what Billy asked of Steve. He could feel Steve getting hard slowly but surely and used the momentum to get out of his own head, to shove those thoughts of badnotenough as far away as possible. 

“I want you, I want you,” he panted into Steve’s mouth, swallowing his own name. “Missed you.”

He tilted Steve’s head toward his shoulder so he could press a kiss to his temple, mouth below his ear. He answered Steve’s whine with his own, Steve pressed into a particularly favored mole in front of his earlobe. They were all his favorite, every single one of them, beauty marks he felt like he hadn’t seen in ages.  
***

Steve’s head rolled back where Billy tilted it, exposing his throat where Billy’s mouth attentively worked into the sensitive spot beneath his earlobe. A sweet kiss already left at his temple, and then against one of the beauty spots Steve knew littered his neck. It was so heartbreakingly sweet, Steve felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The way Billy told him he missed him. Like Steve had been gone, even if he’d been right there, but – but Steve felt like he’d been gone, too. Like he’d been absent, somehow. 

But like a jolt of lightning, he finally felt present, like he was back in his own body. No longer hovering in that out-of-body, foggy realm of blind panic. 

“Missed you, I missed you. Want you too, god, I do. I always do. Always want you.” Steve’s voice sounded a little slurred as Billy’s fingers pet over the spot inside deep inside of him on repeat, setting up a rhythm, and it felt like a crackle of electricity every time he passed over it, sending fizzles of lightening up and down his spine, sparking in his very bones. Had him mindlessly pressing back into that touch, hips lowering as he dropped his ass, searching for more, had him gasping. His cock was finally hard now, full and dribbling pre-come with each pass of Billy’s fingers inside against the bundle of nerves. 

“Okay, okay – I can now, I can – ready for me?” He asked, breathy, lashes fluttering, shivering at Billy’s touch. “Wanna touch you, too.”  
***

Billy nodded, or at least he thought he did. It felt like he’d lost some time after Steve spoke to him because it was Steve, he was really there for the first time since they’d moved in. He sounded like himself, sweet and low and panting above him, telling him that he always wanted him even if it had felt like he didn’t. Even if he’d been sure Steve didn’t. 

He slipped his fingers out of Steve’s ass reluctantly, one last curl of his fingers before he put his hands to other uses, shoving Steve’s jeans down as far as he could, finally feeling his cock pressed up against their stomachs. They went back up to Steve’s head to draw him in for a kiss, his breath hitching and his eyes welling up despite himself. Steve had been gone but he was here now and he could pretend it was the first night in their new home again, that nothing was wrong and nothing ever would be. 

“Please,” he begged, a short gasp following while the kiss turned sloppy, clumsy, chin wobbling as he tried to make their lips meet.  
***

Steve deepened the kiss for Billy, his hands sliding between them to slide those little grey cotton sleep shorts off, shimmying them over thick, soft thighs. He also stepped out of his jeans, kicking them onto the floor as an afterthought.

Steve didn’t tell Billy not to cry – it was too difficult to tell him not to cry, to brush away his tears, when it was triggering the same reaction in Steve. He was blinking away unexplainable tears himself. He couldn’t explain it, but it was this sort of…visceral reaction, this gut feeling, that somehow this was going to be the last time. Maybe they’d both be dead tomorrow. Maybe something else would happen. Steve didn’t know. He couldn’t explain why or how he felt it, but he did, though there was no real rhyme or reason behind it. 

He wasn’t going to leave. He wasn’t. This was their home. He’d told Billy any time. Every year. He’d meant it. But he couldn’t help the feeling of time running out, a clock ticking down in a count down, and it was close to zero.

He smeared the fingers of his right hand in lube. Then, both of them beautifully naked, exposed to the air around them, Steve gathered Billy up in his arms to get them away from that fucking tv set and got them in the little kitchen, the closest place. Perching Billy on the edge of the kitchen table, away from the prying eyes of a screen, he kissed up and down Billy’s neck, his mouth trembling as he tried his best not to cry. Licking a hot stripe up his jugular, and pressing another kiss into his pulse point. 

His hands looped underneath Billy’s thighs to pull them around his waist, their cocks waving against each other, at attention. Steve gently lowered Billy back against the wood of the table, lashes damp, and pressed kisses across his chest, down over his belly, tonguing at his belly button before he wrapped one arm around Billy’s thigh, holding it up, and spreading his ass with the motion.

He licked across Billy’s cock then, heavy and velvet under his tongue, all the way from the base to the tip as he slid a finger into Billy’s ass, slow at first – easing up to the knuckle. Watching him with dark, anxious eyes, overbright with tears.  
***

Billy’s eyelids fluttered, the motion making his cheeks damp in an instant. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself, with his hands now that he was finally getting what he wanted. They settled in Steve’s hair, fingers coaxing through dark locks, curling and uncurling. The finger inside of him, Steve’s mouth, all of it felt like too much because both of them were crying, some terrible cloud settled over the kitchen. 

Something was wrong but he couldn’t think about it, had to keep pushing it away like he had the last few days. It was the only way he could keep going on and relax, let that arousal send hot streaks up his spine and cause his legs to spread out further. His hips twitched up and then down, like he couldn’t decide between the sensations, both too good to refuse. 

He had to keep his eyes up, blinking out hot tears as he stared at the stucco on the ceiling, counting each little bump though he knew he’d—that it would take too long. That maybe there wouldn’t be enough time to get to all of them. 

“Now, please, please,” he sobbed, taking in gulps of air, fingers pawing at what he could reach—Steve’s hair, his jaw, the back of his neck. 

Billy’s sobs tore something loose in Steve’s chest - he thought it might be his heart. Steve wouldn’t deny Billy anything, not now that he was finally present – even if he knew he should be even more alarmed that they were both crying, knew that something was horribly wrong, and also that Billy…Billy didn’t know what it was. But Steve couldn’t tell him that. He couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t explain why Steve’d been a total brain case lately, not behind the few vague things he’d tapped out to him in morse code a few days ago.

Steve nodded, roughly, coming off of Billy’s cock with a slick pop of his mouth.  
***

“Okay, I…I’ve got you. This time I’ve got you, got you.”

He was already a few fingers deep into Billy, built up a steady pace, stretching him wide, wide enough to fit Steve’s dick – preparing him, fingers curling inside of him just as Billy’s had furled within Steve only moments before.

Steve’s mouth was wet with spit, and he sniffled and rubbed his arm into his eyes to try and get the tears wiped away. Acting like Billy’s cock in the back of his throat had been too much.

He straightened, bare foot on the yellow seventies linoleum, allowing Billy’s fingers to drop away as he drew Billy’s hips across the table edge. He was supporting the curve of his thighs as he guided the head of his achingly hard cock to Billy’s hole. He teased at the sensitive skin for only a second, before he breached the rim slowly, grunting a little with the sudden sensation. Blinking rapidly to clear the tears away. Staring down at a bleary form of Billy, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as he paused – only for a moment, to let his lover adjust, before he began to press forward.  
***

Billy drew Steve closer despite the burn, hands roaming over his back and pulling him as near as he could. It hurt but he didn’t care, it could hurt a million times over and he’d still want it, openly sobbing and not knowing why. It felt perfect too, like they were finally meeting one another again, their bodies fitting together like they were meant to. 

He dug his fingers into Steve’s back and rolled his hips, tried to get Steve to set a quick rhythm from the start. He felt too impatient, worried that if too much time passed that Steve would change his mind. So he reached with one hand to cradle Steve’s face again, making sure they could look at each other even if Billy could barely see him now. He needed to know he’d tried for this but he still—he still didn’t know why.  
***

Steve didn’t remember ever bottoming out inside of Billy so fast before, or setting such a strenuous pace as quickly as he did – urged along by Billy, but he wasn’t fighting it, either. Steve was gasping and swallowing sobs, his lashes sticking together with tears as he hooked his arms underneath Billy’s back, grasping onto his shoulders to give himself leverage. Pulling Billy back onto him as he worked his hips forward. Even though reasonably, realistically, he should have known to stop them - like that one time in Steve’s bed - but his logical mind wasn’t there.

Billy’s hand too soft on his face, cradling his cheek, and their noses were so close they could almost touch as Steve started thrusting into him. Setting an almost frantic rhythm as Steve tried to brush their noses together, a lone tear dripping from the tip. Steve huffed a broken sound against Billy’s mouth as he fucked into him, trying to keep his eyes open as he gazed down at him. 

One hand fluttered away from Billy’s shoulder after a second, desperately searching out his other free hand – the one not against his cheek – needing to hold it. Fingers trembling, just like they had been earlier on the couch. He couldn’t seem to steady them.

“I love you, I love you – “ Steve babbled against Billy’s mouth, breath ragged as the pace became a little more punishing, desperate. His fingers squeezing so tight in Billy’s. The table was rocking maddeningly on its legs, old wood groaning under their combined weight. “I love you – so much, Billy. Baby – baby, please – love you. Never, never loved anyone how I love you.”  
***

Billy didn’t think he could call it a kiss now, his face warped with some unknown grief mixed with pleasure, every nerve firing off at the same time. It made his hand shake desperately in Steve’s and on his face, petting his cheek over and over. Trying to keep Steve there, keep the light in his eyes. If they just kept moving then Steve wouldn’t check out again, if he kept whining and meeting every thrust Steve would stay just like that. 

“I love you, I love you,” he echoed, alarmed by Steve’s words but also so relieved to hear them that it didn’t take anything to just accept them. “I’m here—right here, not still. You’re with me, we’re here. Every year.”

He didn’t know if it would work but he hoped so, cut off in the middle of his whimpering by a lightning strike of arousal. It had him clinging to Steve with his thighs, folding himself in half so he could get as much of him as possible. Steve was fucking into him hard enough that he knew he’d be sore after but it felt—good. The burn was good because it meant they were both right there together, that he would have something to pinpoint. To prove it. 

“-Harder-.”  
***

Steve couldn’t HELP but comply with Billy’s request. Harder. If that would keep him here. Keep the world at bay. Billy’s words pushed him closer to an almost panic, his hips rolling harder, pushing deeper into Billy. When Billy’d said the words ‘not still’ Steve had almost frozen up, had to keep himself mindlessly rutting forward, even if his toes suddenly went numb, and it wasn’t from pleasure.

It wasn’t the same pleasure that was buzzing in his bones like bees, making his brain feel like static, or his heart take off at a gallop. A punch of arousal in his gut, getting him chasing the brilliant desire for both of them, but it was making him dizzy, almost sick. He leaned his cheek hungrily into Billy’s touch, his breathing wet with tears, nuzzling into a rough palm as his hips strived forward, raw moans shuddering out of his lungs with each broken breath. 

“I can’t – if you went -still- again – I couldn’t, couldn’t -do it-.” Steve shook his head against Billy’s hand, the pace he was setting outright ridiculous. Very unlike Steve. The table clattered against the linoleum, rocked back onto two legs. “Please stay, Please stay.” He sobbed. “Every year. Please. I love you so much, I’m sorry – I’m sorry.” Sorry I dragged you into this. Sorry I told you at all. Sorry you got stuck with me. Sorry for what might come to pass. Sorry. “I need you. Love you. Don’t forget.”  
***

“I’m not, I’m not, I won’t,” Billy sobbed, shaking his head with Steve, keeping him close. “I love you. Don’t leave, please don’t leave again. Stay here, stay like this.”

His words dissolved into soft sounds, whines somewhere between pain and pleasure as Steve’s hips slammed into his thighs. His fingers clutched at Steve’s desperately, hard enough to hurt there too because he didn’t know what might happen if he let go. It was perfect and brutal and present, both of them present for the other in a way that made it hard, impossible to stop the tears from soaking his cheeks. 

He had to close his eyes eventually, the arousal almost too much. His orgasm was coming quick but he didn’t move to touch himself, afraid everything might fall away once it was over and done with. He crossed his ankles behind Steve’s back to draw closer, sweat making his thighs slick, making them slide against Steve’s ribs. Nothing bad was going to happen, not if they fit so perfectly together.  
***

Steve knew that Billy probably meant not to leave mentally – not to check the fuck out like he had been the past few days, but it was difficult not to only hear it in the context Steve’s brain had been thinking of. Leaving. If he should leave in order to save Billy. But there had to be other options, better options, Hopper would fix it, he would, he could fix anything before Steve made some rash, stupid decision. 

But he meant what he said. He couldn’t do it, if Billy died. He wouldn’t be the one held responsible. He would rather be separate than have Billy dead – it wouldn’t be worth the cost otherwise. Billy was the most important person in the world to him. And Steve would protect him, if it came down to it. That’s what he did. He protected those he loved.

Steve continued to pound into him, the slick slap of skin on skin echoing in the kitchen as the table rattled, creaking with abuse. Steve buried himself in that moment, in the sounds Billy was making, letting out choppy moans every time he thrust a little harder, a little faster. Fingers clenched up with Billy’s. He didn’t close his eyes – tried to keep them open, even as Billy’s long, ebony lashes slid down against his cheeks, and Steve tried to memorize the way they did that. 

Steve’s hand that had been looped under Billy’s shoulder slid back to grasp at Billy’s untouched cock – wrapping long fingers around it, his palm sweaty enough to slick over the touch, stroking it long and hard in time with a few of Steve’s thrusts. 

He was gritting his teeth and trying not to sob, and he didn’t want it to end, this connection where all that was left was them, their bodies moving together seamlessly, rough and filthy and perfect. But his orgasm was already teetering on the edge after too many days of too much stress, and his body sought the release. He was coming into Billy’s ass before he knew it, his hips jerking forward one last time and then stilling as he still tried to work his hand over Billy, but he froze up otherwise. Huffing through his nose, panting against Billy’s throat where he’d buried his face, licking at the salty skin of his collarbone. Emptying himself into Billy, eyes screwed shut as blinding pleasure enveloped him, up on his toes, entire body trembling.  
***

Billy came only seconds later, frantic and sad about not getting to look at Steve when he did. He’d come plenty of times before without it but it felt important. It felt important to look, to see him. His moans turned into sobs and when it was over he still couldn’t stop, hand slipping out of Steve’s grip to scramble at him, clutch to his back and hold tight. 

He couldn’t decide where his hands should go, too much skin he needed to touch. They ran over his back and his shoulders, ran through his hair and pressed his face closer into his own shoulder. Held and held and held because Steve was finally there again and he wanted to make sure it stayed that way. 

“I missed you,” he cried, embarrassed by the childish sound of his voice, of his crying. Quiet, hiccuping sobs and harsh sniffs, trying to keep his exhaustion at bay. To not slip into sleep, to stay right there. “I -missed- you. I love you, I missed you.”  
***

Steve pressed a wet cheek into Billy’s throat, his arms sliding around Billy’s waist against the table, holding on so tight to him, hugging him against Steve like he could keep them together that way. Chest to chest. 

He felt horribly guilty as Billy cried in his ear – cried because Steve knew he’d been absent, and it was true, it wasn’t fucking fair that Billy didn’t know what was going on. Steve had considered writing it all down for him to read. Then burning it. But it would still just give Billy more knowledge and made the situation that much more dangerous. He’d already said too much. The information might get him killed. Steve couldn’t tell him WHY. 

He didn’t want Billy to think it was because they had moved in, or Steve was disinterested, or it was anything Billy had caused – but he was hiccuping, crying so softly, sobbing. Steve’s throat clenched up at the sound, and his chest felt too tight again as he let out a harsh sob against Billy’s collarbone, sort of rocking him against the table. Rocking them both. 

“I love you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I, I’ll try to be better, I’m sorry I c-can’t tell you why. I love you so much.” Don’t forget. “I meant it. I meant it, what I said, that night we had hot chocolate at my house.” He whispered this part low in Billy’s ear. “I’m sorry I’ve been so - checked out. You’re -everything- to me.”


	12. Chapter 12

Steve was sorry and he was trying, Billy could tell that much. They’d stayed like that for hours, until Steve coaxed them both into the bedroom and held Billy like—like everything he was saying was some concrete fact. That he did love him, that he would try, that Billy was everything. 

The next couple of days drove the point home a whole fucking lot harder for Billy. There was still something up but Steve was more present, not talking much but sticking close. Pressing kisses to Billy’s hair while he cooked, gathering him up in his arms on the couch, in bed, any time they were left standing next to each other. The apartment was quiet but Billy tried to settle into it, thought he’d take this over the zombie that had sat in front of the television, staring at it like it held some secret for him. He’d take it over Steve not smiling at him at all and only half heartedly kissing him back. 

He’d been looking forward to the fair, honestly. He knew it would be hokey and stupid but he’d never really been to one before, pictured carrying some awful and obnoxiously large stuffed bear around that Steve had won for him. Pictured cotton candy staining his lips and screaming and swearing while Max and him faced off at some totally rigged carnie game. That part was happening at least, the kids behind them as they played an ancient looking shooting game. He could hear El clapping behind him and cheering but Steve—he hoped he was behind him too.  
***

Steve was actually having a pretty good time. It felt safe there. There wasn’t any way to be listened in on, and the crowd was so plentiful, people screaming with delight on rides, and bustling around, that they were lost in it. There were so many people nothing could possibly happen here. They were just another ‘family’ out there enjoying the fair, blending in seamlessly. He finally felt at ease, unlike when they were at the apartment and he felt watched, constantly. Here, they were invisible. 

He was clapping and whooping at Billy and Max as they played the old fashioned shooting game, the ‘rifles’ rusting under their hands as they shot at papers with outlines of men. Steve tried not to let the sight of the guns bring up any of his nightmares. 

This was their day off, they were relaxing at the fair. He’d come here since he was a kid, and now they was bringing their own little gang of brats, and Billy and Max were totally new to it. Even if it was old hat to everybody else – this was one of the best things to do during a summer in Hawkins. The air was hot and sticky even though night had fallen, and all of the neon lights on the snack bars and the light-up rides were glowing in the darkness, making everything dreamy and surreal.

It smelled like the fairgrounds, like deep fried funnel cakes, but also like hay, and the animals that were being shown, goats and chickens and rabbits and things, cages and pens marked with ribbons a distance away from the rides. Steve had eaten like two corn dogs already and gotten cotton candy for everyone. El had seriously struggled with trying to bite into the cloud before they showed her how to rip off pieces instead of chewing on the whole thing. It had been hilarious, yet also endearing.

Steve’s white shirt sleeves were rolled up and he was in high waisted baby blue shorts, tube socks up to his knees as he lounged behind Billy, watching. They’d already gone on a couple of rides, and Steve had bought everybody wristbands so they could go on as many rides as they wanted without having to count tickets. 

He wouldn’t say his mom was maybe slipping him some extra money, but she definitely was, and tonight called for it to be used – one moment of peace amidst this fucked up week. Even if he was feeling a little better, and was still waiting on Hopper to come through, he was trying to be hopeful. Trying to relax.

“Steve, my man, I am telling you, I can definitely go on The Zipper. Look at me. Do I look like I can’t handle it? I don’t think so.” Dustin was saying.

“Last year you cried.” Steve pointed out mildly.

“I do not recollect that. I am now a full year older and wiser and am no longer a child, and can definitely go on the zipper! We all can!”

“There is no way I am going on that.” Will shook his head.

“C’mon don’t be a baby guys it’ll be fun. Dustin’s right, we aren’t kids anymore.” Mike said.

Will blinked. “Okay.” Like all it took was Mike saying ‘do it.’

“What is the...zipper?” El frowned, tilting her head like she was thinking about zippers on clothes. 

“It’s that.” Steve pointed at the zipper, an ominous, tall ride built in a vertical oval with cages inside that ‘zipped’ up and down, spinning as they went. Thrilled screams could be heard from there. “It’s really fun, but uh, it’s kind of a lot. For some people.” Like El, maybe. Or maybe not. She was made of more steel than Dustin, he figured.

“I think El can handle it.” Lucas pointed out. Tightening his bandana. “She’s a total badass.” 

Steve winced as the bb gun sounds continued to prattle on - he wished they could go do a different game. Or a ride. He knew Billy and Max were into it, but it was starting to rattle him, making his stomach turn. He’d eaten too much.  
***

Billy could hear the kids talking with Steve but he was pretty engrossed in beating Max, though maybe that wasn’t working out so well for him. Definitely rigged, the game was definitely rigged. The bell rang and it was clear she’d won, his hands thrown up in the air with a sound of outrage. He spun around to find Steve, let him see the scandalized look on his face. 

“Absolute joke, this game is bullshit,” he hollered, ignoring the sound of the kid running the shooting gallery behind him, the words there are children here. “I want to go on on the Zipper, Steve, let’s do it. Or-or hey, Ferris wheel?”

He was feeling a little giddy but he couldn’t help it. Today was—good. The kids were all there and he’d gone on a rollercoaster like four times already. Max seemed happy and Steve was present. Present and happy and attentive, even if they couldn’t do much in public. A sneaky hand on the back or a bump of their fingers, but it still felt like everything. Like what Steve said he was to him. 

“I think you had too much sugar,” Max said, dodging the lazy swipe of her brother’s hand with a grin as she sidled up to Lucas. “Guys, maybe we should let them like, actually spend time together.”  
***

Dustin scowled at her. “Uhhhh we are letting them spend time together. With us. I mean I haven’t seen Steve in like a week because of -you know what- and I don’t think – hey hey, what gives – “ He scowled as Mike grabbed his arm and started to drag him away. 

“Excellent plan, let’s go. Let them makeout at the top of the ferris wheel or whatever gross stuff they wanna do.” 

“Oh like you DON’T wanna go kiss El on the ferris wheel?” Lucas snorted.

Mike turned red. “Shut up! I do not. What about Max? Huh?”

“I’m a gentleman and that’s up to her.” Lucas sniffed.

El blushed and tagged along after them as they started to wander away from Billy and Steve, led by Mike as he dragged Dustin away. Will looking behind them with this mournful, big eyed expression, staying quiet, mouth drawn. Betrayed somehow. 

“Steve! Steve! Come find us!” Dustin wailed back. 

Steve waved after him. “Yeah! Yeah we will, chill, we’re just gonna play a few more games or – or go on the ferris wheel.” He couldn’t help but letting a practically shy smile curl the side of his mouth as he glanced at his sugar-high boyfriend with eager eyes. 

Okay maybe he did want to make out a little at the top, maybe they’d get stuck up there for a while. Hawkins spread out before them. It didn’t sound half bad, really. It was kind of right up Steve’s alley. “Sorry the game was totally rigged. But you did really good, considering. I’d really like to try that Milk Bottle Baseball Toss, you know the one?”  
***

Billy nodded and followed Steve along, a hair’s breadth away from reaching out to hold his hand as they walked. He settled for bumping their shoulders together and keeping them there because, well, it wasn’t a secret really. Two weeks ago and he would’ve just said fuck it but he wanted to be nice and careful now. So he rubbed his shoulder against Steve’s for a second and followed next to him, propping himself on a stool to watch. 

He couldn’t quite help the moony eyed look he had while he watched Steve, the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he threw the ball. It was an absolute fucking pity that he hadn’t gotten to see Steve play baseball, the pants his number one concern whenever he thought about it. He looked really handsome tonight and the carnival lights really did wonders for his skin, made him look like some kind of effigy next to the word beautiful like that. 

“Seriously, absolutely criminal that I never got to see you play,” he said with mock mournfulness, bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. “You still have that uniform?”  
***

Steve threw his arm back before he pitched, acting like he had a mock glove on one hand before he did it out of habit. ‘Throwing fire.’ The heavy steel milk bottles scattered as he struck them right in the center of the pyramid, watching them fall with pure satisfaction. This was his favorite game at the summer fair. He won it every year, which was funny, because he’s actually been a batter, not a pitcher, when he used to be on the team. All the way back to little league. 

Steve’s eyebrows jumped up in amusement as he threw his gaze toward Billy, perched on the stool alongside him. He could feel his eyes on him, raking over his skin, and he could admit that it felt pretty damn good. He liked feeling like Billy was attracted to him, just like he thought Billy was hot as hell. Sometimes he felt a little lacking in comparison to his perfect specimen of a boyfriend, not quite as built, not quite as sturdy, a little too gawky, a little too skinny, even if he was normally pretty confident. So he liked when Billy looked at him like that – like he’d hung the moon. It made a flush creep up his neck, smiling at Billy as he tossed the ball up and down in the air, catching it in his bare palm with a smack.

“Wish we’d been on the team together – but both baseball and basketball got to be too much for the whole year, I guess, so I had to choose. I do, but jesus, I don’t think it fits anymore. That was, what, freshman summer? Thank god I had that growth spurt.” 

He wound up and threw the last ball, knocking down the last pyramid of bottles with a clatter. 

“Alright kid, whaddya want? Your pick.” The carnie dude said, this gruff bearded guy that waved boredly up at the top row where all the biggest stuffed animals hung. 

Steve gazed up at the swinging plushes, the flashing lights reflecting in dark pools of eyes, before he turned to Billy. He’d seen him eyeballing that big goofy looking giraffe earlier, though it was a coin toss if it was because he liked it, or just thought it was funny. 

“Yeah, the giraffe please? Thanks.” Steve said, accepting the big, awkward yellow thing with the silly long neck, skinny legs, and enormous, black eyes. He handed the thing over to Billy with a sweet grin.  
***

Billy met Steve’s smile with one of his own, big and toothy and lined with sugar only seconds before he’d licked it off. He took the giraffe and set it on his knee, looking down at it and running a hand over the head. It was funny looking but—and he’d never say it—it kind of reminded him of Steve. All lanky with big eyes and Steve had noticed him looking right at it. He’d noticed. 

“It’s definitely haunted,” he said, locking eyes with it and squeezing it for a second. “I really love it. Thanks, sweetheart.”

This was different than the quiet I love yous and soft kisses he’d been getting to his face the last two days and he wanted to hold onto it forever. Just play this particular moment out over and over, see the proud little smile on Steve’s face and keep squeezing the thing he’d given him. Steve had given him a lot. 

“Ferris wheel?”  
***

“You’re welcome, sorry we have to like, carry it around now. Yeah, yeah absolutely.” Steve ‘s chin canted down just a hair as he studied Billy, eyes warm, his chest easing even more than before – seeing Billy like that, when he hadn’t seen him like that in what now felt like ages….it made him feel better. 

He liked putting that look on Billy’s face, like he was doing something right, when the last week he’d done everything wrong. He’d try to fix it, try to do better. He could do better – he could fix everything. He could. He’d figure it out, and they’d be okay. They headed over to the ferris wheel with Billy holding that big silly thing before they got to the ride, waving their wristbands for the ticketeer to see. 

With the lap bar lifted up, Steve let Billy get in first before he climbed in after him, and the bar locked into place above them, the little seat swinging with their weight. The engine hummed as it rotated them to the next spot above the ground, loading the next people in below them. Out of sight of anyone, Steve immediately wrapped his hand up into Billy’s free one – the one that wasn’t holding that giraffe tight to his other side. 

Billy ‘s hand was warm and dry within his, rougher now that he’d started working at the auto shop. Steve ran the edge of his thumb along Billy’s, biting at his lower lip with a grin and giving that hand a squeeze. Gazing at him like he was the only one in the whole world. He felt so much better tonight, heart giddy in the moment – like he could finally breathe.  
***

Billy looked down at their hands and kept his eyes there, more than conscious of the way he was being looked at. Like he was something precious, and he could feel it in that tiny little touch too. He was pulled out of it by the seat moving, rocking back and forth as they moved higher up. Then he was looking back at Steve, communicating and reciprocating everything he could see on Steve’s face. Love. 

He spent their ascent to the too like that, both of them staring at each other, sharing some sort of secret between just the two of them. It was all perfect, all of it. The air nice and warm even high up, all the stars in a sky devoid of pollution, the sound of carnival games and people laughing and talking below them in crowds. Like that feeling was everywhere at once, like everyone was feeling it too. Love.  
***

Steve leaned into Billy, touching their shoulders together, and as they swept over the first arc of the wheel he pressed a kiss against Billy’s cheek. This brief, soft thing, a smile lingering behind it. Expanding on this secret between them as the ferris wheel creaked as it brought them around full circle. Hands tangled together between their thighs, going around and around. A dizzying motion, the whole world spread out before them, all glittering lights and an expanse of darkness beyond. 

He thought about Billy and him talking about how this was the new start to their lives. He wanted it to be a good beginning. He wanted it to be like this. This feeling. Like all they had to do was reach out and take it, the world at their fingertips. At the top of the world again, Steve did it again, laughing softly against Billy’s neck as he nosed at his ear, mouthing at the hinge of his jaw. Murmuring ‘I love you.’

The ferris wheel ground to a stop, their little seat swinging a few wild times. A warm, summer wind buffeting them. Steve’d hoped they’d get stuck at the top while they were loading people or whatever, but he hadn’t thought it would actually happen. Talk about luck.  
***

Billy hunched his shoulders and laughed at the sensation, a small sound of good natured discomfort that he had no real plans of putting a stop to. If anything he moved himself closer, like a moth to a flame, tucking the giraffe into his side and using his now free hand to cuddle in as close as he could. Tipping his head and pressing a kiss of his own to Steve’s hair, urging his face up. 

When their lips met it felt like everything was falling into place all over again. He could kiss Steve like this, quick and greedy and sweet, and feel that love in between each one. His hand settled on Steve’s cheek to keep him there as he deepened the kiss, tried to make the most of what time they had up top. Before everything kept moving and the wheels of the world kept spinning. Just one perfect moment where every stressor slid right off of his shoulders, left him loose and pliant and happy. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington. Every year, any time.”  
***

The sound of Billy’s laughter bolstered Steve into wanting more, hungry for that sound, all the time, every day. He felt himself get a little goofy, huffing his own laughter into Billy’s throat before suddenly their lips were meeting like no one was around – because there wasn’t anyone, just them and stars and space and dark and quiet.

They couldn’t be touched up here.

Steve hungrily met Billy’s mouth, all stolen kisses with stolen time, all sugar sweet and eager, young love. Pressing smiles like stamps in sealing wax, leaving marks of his love against Billy’s pretty mouth. He didn’t let ‘every year any time’ affect him in any bad way, only a good way – nodding in agreement, humming against Billy’s mouth. Steve lifted a hand to cradle the side of his face, thumb stroking over the jut of his cheekbone. Fingertips tickling into the start of his hairline.

“Every year, any time, Billy Hargrove. Want this with you. Always.” He brushed their noses together, lashes almost fluttering together they were so close. “Don’t forget.”

The wheel jerked back to life and started pulling them back down, gravity calling them to earth. Steve left one last kiss against the corner of Billy’s mouth, like a promise, before he pulled away just enough. Squeezing their hands together in between their thighs before the ride was over, and the carnie was shooing them off.  
***

Billy was still smiling like an absolute clown when they got kicked off, clutching his giraffe like a lifeline. The kids weren’t far off and he wondered if they’d been waiting for them, something nice and small settling in him at the idea. Like maybe they were just as excited to see him as Steve at this point—well, maybe not just as excited, unless you counted Will. 

“These idiots want to go get elephant ears but Will and I want to go to the funhouse, look at the hall of mirrors,” Max called, waving unnecessarily and dramatically as they moved closer. “You wanna go with us? Everybody meet up at the Ring of Fire after?”

Billy looked at Steve and shrugged, lips turned down in the corners in a why not expression. It turned into a big, toothy smile when he looked at Will, patting him softly on the shoulder. 

“Sure,” he said, looking at Steve one last time, that secret still in the air. “You coming, sweetheart?”  
***

Steve frowned a little at the offer, and glanced a little uneasily at the other boy, but Billy was already saying ‘sure’ and the kids were clambering over it, excited. Steve should have said no.

When he’d been a kid, he’d actually gotten lost in the hall of mirrors. More like ‘maze.’ He’d gotten separated from Tommy and hadn’t been able to get out. Somehow he kept hitting dead ends, versions of himself, panicked, dark eyed, reflected back a hundred times. He’d ended up terrified and crying, hunched up on the floor until one of the workers had to come in to get him. He hadn’t gone in one since. Tommy had never let him live it down. And then last year Nancy’d made fun of him about it when he told her, so, he didn’t say anything now. He didn’t want Billy to think he was a huge baby. 

He was a grown ass person, he could make it through a hall of mirrors. He wasn’t seven anymore. 

He shifted a little on his high-top Nikes, tagging along after them. “Uhm, yeah, babe.“ Steve nodded, keeping up. 

When they finally got to the funhouse even the giant clown face that you entered in through was creepy. Steve felt some weird sense of ill-boding, but he knew it was just because he’d gotten spooked as a kid. But even Will was eager to do the fun house, unlike the zipper. Nothing scary here. He followed after Billy and giraffe into the funhouse, up the set of stairs and across the swinging rope bridge to get into the main building. A faint, nervous crease between his brows.  
***

Billy threw Steve a smile over his shoulder, holding the giraffe under his arm as he stumbled through a rotating jumbo barrel, nearly losing his balance. It was funny to look ahead and watch Max and Will with linked arms, that fierce urge to make sure they were fine. Clearly they were when Max yelled bet I’ll beat your ass to the other side, yanking Will along in a mad dash through a zig zagged hallway. 

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t abide by those fighting words,” he called over his shoulder, wagging the giraffe at him before setting off after them. 

They were quick and unfortunately smaller, probably hiding behind the weird funhouse mirrors. He set his hand on one of the walls to catch his breath and it had some give, kind of a startling amount really. He stepped back and away from it, not really intending to break his ankle in this podunk plywood box, more interested in maybe scaring the shit out of Max. 

“Brat,” he called, weaving his way into the hall of mirrors, thumping his shoulders into false exits, peering around corners until he thought he could see the end—and recognizable red hair there. God dammit.  
***

Will was laughing as he and Max surged away together, holding at her hand as they raced to beat Billy to the exit. But as Billy called back to Steve, who was lagging behind, nervously glancing over his shoulder – feeling like he had eyes on his back – Steve jerked his gaze to the front again. Chocolate brown eyes went wide as Billy made the giraffe wave it’s floppy head at him before he was taking off. 

“W-wai! Billy, I – “ Steve started, but he was already gone. That was fast. 

Steve gaped after him, swallowing hard. He picked up his pace, trying to keep up, half running through the barrel roll, almost tripping, and then a bunch of funhouse mirrors – ones that made you look too tall and skinny, or too low and fat. But he wasn’t paying that much attention. He knew what was at the end of the funhouse. And suddenly he was alone.

“Billy?” He called, but there was no answer. 

When he finally met the start of the mirrored maze, Steve’s breath caught. The ceiling was lit up with pinky purple lights, just like he remembered, making everything light up like he was in fucking Tron. Bizarre reflections of himself stared back a hundred fold. He didn’t see any reflections of Billy, Max, or Will. Just Steve.

“Guys?” He called, but his voice just bounced back at him.

It was fine, he just needed to get to the exit. He could figure this out. He wandered through the silver and fuschia maze, shoulders bumping against too-close mirrors, feeling them give a little at the touch. He kept hitting dead ends. It was fine. He felt like he was going in a circle. And it felt like too much time had passed. 

He looped around again, getting his hands up to start feeling in front of himself. His fingers touched a mirror, fogging it up with his rising body heat. Sweating. He turned again, hands outreached. Mirror. Mirror. Mirror. 

“Billy?” He called again, voice getting higher. He wasn’t gonna freak out. It felt like calling ‘Tommy?’ years and years ago. Steve twitched nervously, his eyes getting too large as he twisted around in a circle, heartbeat rising as he surged forward. He hit a mirror. He stared back at himself, breath caught in his lungs, getting claustrophobic. Like the mirrors were closing in.

He turned around. There was another reflection staring back at him. But it wasn’t his.

Outside, in the fresh summer air, Will was laughing, swinging hands with Max and grinning up at Billy as he emerged. 

“Man we totally beat you, that was so great! Mike never wants to go in the house of mirrors, I’m so glad you guys are here, I love it in there. It’s kind of like a dream, or something, you know?”  
***

“We’re glad you’re here too,” Billy said, ruffling the top of Will’s head with his free hand, one side of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “Yeah, I like it too. Max and I, we used to go on the boardwalk. She’d never go on the Diving Bell with me but the funhouse? Always.”

“Yeah, sorry. Still not interested in getting dunked underwater,” Max said with a roll of her eyes, looking over her shoulder at the exit with a frown. “Steve still not done?”

Billy looked at the void of the exit and frowned, mouth twisting a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t have rushed forward so quick. But Steve was a big boy, and he’d been to this fair probably a dozen times if not more by now. He was probably just dicking around—maybe he’d do that later too, spook himself out with the mirrors once they’d gone on every other ride.  
***

Steve didn’t know the guy. He’d seen plenty of the other weirdos that had cornered him at various times, but for sure, cornering him in the fucking fun house hadn’t been on his list of expectations. It was literally the creepiest thing ever. He was already spooked with the mirrors, but he hadn’t expected one of the government suits to show up – at least, he thought that’s who this was.

The guy looked like he was out of an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie though, like he’d just walked off of Terminator. Steve’s back slammed against one of the mirrors, making it vibrate. Wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. Everything lit up sick and pink. The reflection moved, multiplied, all around him, until the real man was standing in front of him. Steve’s first instinct was to hit him and run, but he was trapped like a goddamn mouse in a maze and he knew he’d just faceplant into another mirror. He’d been safe outside in a crowd, but here? He was alone. All bets were off.

“We warned you.” The guy said. He seemed like a man of little words. “You’re out of time.”

Steve’s shoulders shuddered, jaw locking, glaring the guy down. Hit and run, he wanted to hit and run, but the guy – holy shit. Steve’s eyes went as round as coins as his gaze dropped to take in the monster gun the guy was wielding. It had a silencer on it. Steve’d never seen a gun like that in real life. Not outside of a movie. Not outside of a big screen. Steve’s breath turned into a nervous pant. The last few days of nightmares and frazzled out thoughts of being in Scarface and that he’d protect Billy from dying all slammed into him at once, like a solid wave in the ocean, knocking the breath at him. This was really happening. Holy shit.

He stared at the guy. He wondered if his life was going to flash in front of his eyes. 

“He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t.” Steve choked out. 

The guy’s mouth – this flat line of a thing, twisted into a bitter shape. 

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. No. I mean yes, I’m sure – no, no he, he doesn’t – I didn’t – “ Steve babbled. Staring at the gun. It wasn’t the first time he’d had one in his face.

The guy pulled out a tape recorder with his free hand. The one not leveling a gun at Steve. A little silver thing like one that his dad used to take memos, like when he was talking to himself like he was super important. Steve stared s’more.  
The guy pressed play. The thing buzzed to life. Billy’s tinny voice rebounded off the mirrors, echoing.

“Man, Emil, I’m not gonna tell anybody what kind of weird shit you and your wife do. Not gonna make Steve sign another NDA.”

“What’s that mean, Hargrove?”

“Nothing, man. Government shit.”

“….shit.” Steve breathed. He tried surging to the side.

He smacked into a mirror, nose smarting. The guy was on him like white on rice, and he felt the barrel of the gun bite into his shoulder blade. Just behind his heart. Steve froze, panting against the mirror, fogging it up with panicked breaths. 

“You end it. Tonight. Break it off. Don’t go back to that place. You signed a contract. Non-negotiable. You don’t? He dies. You’re next. Last warning.” 

The shaft of the gun didn’t suggest otherwise. It hurt, cold steel digging into bone. Then it was gone.

When Steve managed to look over his shoulder, the guy wasn’t anywhere to be seen. His legs turned to putty as he sank to the ground, curling up against the mirror. Gasping for air. He could still feel the barrel of the gun, a phantom presence.

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin came wandering up, Dustin chewing on a dill pickle on a stick and Mike was discussing something about the new campaign for the week. As they met up again, Will waved them down, grinning. 

“Hey guys! We totally beat Billy racing in the funhouse. He was saying something about a – Diving Bell? In California? But um, we’re still waiting for Steve.”

Mike’s eyebrows inched up a bit as he got that look on his face like he’d smelled dog shit. Staring at Billy skeptically. 

“What, you mean you let him go in there? As in Steve’s still in the funhouse?” He asked Billy directly.

Will stared at him balefully, getting a tiny frown. “Is that….bad?”

“Man my sister told me about that, I didn’t tell you? Priceless. He told her about it last year. Apparently he had this huge freakout with Tommy H. in there when they were kids. Got lost. Hadn’t gone in since, I didn’t think he’d follow you guys in there. I would’ve bet money, actually. It’s creepy, I don’t blame him. I still dunno why you like it so much, Will.” He shrugged, taking a bite out of his own dill pickle and frowning up at the creepy funhouse building with the giant clown face for an entrance. “I don’t see what’s supposed to be so great about it.”  
***

Billy’s frown deepened the longer he listened to Mike’s recollection—Steve hadn’t ever told him that story before, he had no idea. He wouldn’t have asked him to if he had because they didn’t really do that anymore, they didn’t tease or make fun. Not like that anyway, that was a dick move. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing. 

“He never told us, he said he’d go with us,” Max said, looking at her brother for confirmation and then back at the gang with more determination. “He definitely didn’t seem weird about it.”

“I’ll just go get—“

“No, no. It was my idea,” Max interrupted with a shake of her head, waving him off once, twice until he got the hint and stayed put. “I’ll be right back, don’t leave before you go do the swings.”

She ran back through the exit, haste in her steps because she wouldn’t put it past them to totally do the swings without her. She pushed past the weird painted punching bags in the narrow hallway and out to the hall of mirrors, hands cupped over her mouth. 

“Steve!”  
***

Steve twitched against the mirror, where he was curled up, arms around his head, probably looking like a total whackadoodle. He’d heard Max. She was calling him. Steve scuffled against the mirror, trying to pull himself up, but his brain felt disconnected from his body, similarly to how it had been the first few days of the week. Hazy with panic. 

“Max!” Steve called out to her, voice ragged. “M-Max, I’m here – I – “ Steve’s fingers slid against the glass as he dragged himself up to a standing position, leaning heavily on the mirror. He realized his cheeks were wet, and he brushed at them with a shaking hand. He looked shell shocked, so pale his eyes looked like black holes, all awash in pink light, hair sticking up funny. Nothing felt real. Not the mirrors. Not Max. Not him.  
***

Max called out one more time, almost smacking her face into a corner, distracted. When she looked to her right Steve was there but—it wasn’t like Steve. Wasn’t even the hysterical way he got last year in the Camaro or at the Byers house, all the hand waving and yelling for the sake of everyone, like some lightning rod for stress. 

This was...different. 

“Steve, are you okay?” she asked, inclined to walk carefully after years with Billy, finding herself running forward instead. “Steve, Steve, hey—what happened?”  
***

Steve was having trouble breathing as Max rushed towards him – he glanced around wildly, half sure the hitman was hiding behind one of the mirrors – listening. He shook his head wildly at Max, putting a finger up to his mouth to indicate silence. With the other hand he grasped at her shoulder, anxiety lacing his grip. Needing her to lead him, because he was fucking helpless in a maze, apparently. He thought he might pass out.

“Can you get us to the exit?” He whispered, voice sounding like his trachea had gone through a cheese grater. Or he’d been smoking for 50 years. His throat was so tight he could barely get the words out.  
***

Max went quiet instantly, nodding to let Steve know that she understood. That she didn’t just hear him, but that she understood. She knew what Steve’s expression said now, even if she didn’t know the particulars of it. That was a Big Bad look, the kind that had trapped them in a broken down school bus, Steve telling them to stay quiet. She knew what it said. 

She did her best to lift him up and put her arms around him, leading them back the way she’d come. She didn’t think they’d ever been this close before except to hug Billy, never just the two of them, and it felt—off. In the middle of the punching bags she paused, looking up at Steve. Still silent but asking.  
***

Steve felt safer talking there – outside of the mirrors where anyone could lurk on the other side, their voices muffled by the dense punching bags on either side. He’d glanced over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t followed. Once he had his feet under him he did better. 

He let go of Max to pinch at the bridge of his nose, breathing hard for a minute as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew she was asking – asking wordlessly with those intense, bright blue eyes, so much like her brother’s. Even if they weren’t related by blood. 

Something started to fracture in Steve’s heart. Maybe it had already been cracking, from days before. Maybe he was just now allowing himself to feel it. Maybe it was just now that he was realizing this was real. That he couldn’t escape.

His throat clicked as he swallowed as he knelt down in front of Max, trying to steady himself. Looking up at her, trying to communicate how important what has about to say was. He kept his voice pitched low, so it wouldn’t carry. It wavered as he spoke.

“The ‘bad men.’ Like El calls ‘em. I know you never really saw them, but – but you heard, right? From Hopper, the guys? They’ve been trailing me for days, since the pool. The guy with the hat at the pool? When we signed those papers – we weren’t supposed to…I wasn’t supposed to stay with anyone. You know we can’t say anything, like Lucas said? I did. Told Billy, only some parts, but I…they want me to stay away. Max – “

Steve was blinking rapidly, trying not to cry like a total idiot. His throat hurt so much to speak. “Max they’re telling me to stay away, because outsiders can’t know. Not unless they got involved before, and Billy – he hasn’t. They want to keep it that way. They said…Max. Max they’re gonna kill him if I don’t.”

Steve’s face convulsed with that sentence, voice breaking, like something internal had suddenly snapped, and he was baring his teeth and covering his eyes.

“Max they’re gonna kill him and I don’t know what to do.” He knew he was talking to a kid, just a little girl, what could she do? But he also knew she was more than that, in so many ways. She’d understand. “Hopper can’t fix it. Max – he had a gun. He had a gun on me. He has this, this recording of Billy. They have proof.”  
***

Max thought Steve was kneeling because he just, well, did that. He liked her to feel like they were on the same level all of the time, like she wasn’t a baby, someone worth talking to and trusting. The more that he talked the more it seemed like a good idea because standing up was getting harder every second. She’d heard about them—the guy at the pool? The one who stared at Billy? What had it been for? To scare Steve?

He had a gun on me. They’re gonna kill him. They want me to stay away. 

“You—Steve, you have to,” she said, swallowing around the lump in her throat at the idea of a world without her brother. At the idea of what Steve was being told to do. What he had to. It made her feel sick, her stomach lurching, picturing every option, but one was much worse “You have to do it, Steve. Right now.”  
***

‘You have to do it, Steve. Right now’

Steve’s heart plummeted in his chest, further down than before, really settling into his stomach. Probably being dissolved by stomach acid. All fractured and brittle and small. He thought maybe he was having a heart attack, probably, at the thought. He screwed his eyes up, still kneeling there like that one statue of a man that was holding the entire world on top of his back. It was an impossible weight. 

“I – “ Steve’s eyes hurt they were closed so tight, he felt dizzy. “I know. J-Jesus I know. I…I think I’ve known all week, but I didn’t think they’d really…it was for real. Max. He was for real. Billy…he…he’s going to…he’s going to hate me. I didn’t know, that it was a part of the papers…I told him. I told him not to say anything, I…” Steve trailed off. 

He knew he was just trying to make excuses. Excuses for how he didn’t know how this could have been avoided. But he did. He should have kept his mouth shut. He shouldn’t have moved in. He should have paid closer attention to what he signed. He’d put Billy in the path of danger. Of Death. Nothing he deserved. 

“…it’s all my fault. I did this. I…I love him, Max.” Steve’s voice broke on that word. Love. “Th…they say that? Don’t they? T…that if you love something, let it go?” A single tear slid down his cheek as he wrenched his eyes open to stare up at Max. His chin wobbling, throat working. Like he was looking for some kind of confirmation. “I would never let him die. Never. And if that means...means not being with me, then...”  
***

“Then that’s what you do,” Max said, trying to sound sure and kind, like her mom. Her mom was really good at that, at getting people to make or understand a hard decision if it was important. Like the time they couldn’t afford summer camp and Max had to stay home. Billy had carted her around those three months, before it had become involuntary when they’d moved. He’d tried to make it fun. 

But Max wasn’t her mom, not even close. She reached out and briskly wiped at Steve’s face to make sure it was dry and helped him stand. She wasn’t her mom because she was trying to smile but it was wobbling all over the place, her lips tightly pressed together as she tried. She wasn’t her mom because she was crying too, almost, and it felt selfish. It wasn’t fair. 

“That’s what you’ll do.”  
***

As they left the funhouse, the use of the word ‘fun’ definitely not lost on Steve, he felt like he was walking towards a firing squad. Dragging his feet. His ears were ringing faintly, and he thought he might have his crazy eyes on, but when they got out to where Max had last left Billy, the other kids were gone. It was only Billy left. Steve blinked at him like he was a mirage, like he wasn’t quite real, too pretty for the world. Beautiful. 

And now he was very, very sure that he had eyes on him. It hadn’t just been his imagination before. He could feel them on his back, and it made the fine hairs at the back of his neck raise up. The ones on his arms stand at attention. That sixth sense alerting him to the presence of danger. He’d break up with Billy Hargrove. The one person he loved more than anything in the world. That’s what he would do. 

But when he got in front of Billy, Max at his side, he just sort of stared at him like a moron. Even if having Max at his side made this a little easier - a little more bearable, than being by himself, he still didn't know what to say. He had a rock lodged in his throat, or maybe a golf ball, and he was possibly choking on it. 

Maybe he‘d just choke and die right here on his own spit and then it would just rid everybody else of their problems. Steve stood there, arms folded tight over his chest like a protective shield, as stiff as a wooden marionette being pulled by strings. And he knew just who the puppeteer was.  
***

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Billy said, an apologetic grimace on his face but eyes still bright. He reached out and squeezed at Steve’s upper arm gently, tried coaxing him to move even if it was like trying to lug a suitcase. “I didn’t know it freaked you out, I wouldn’t have asked you to go in if I did. Pinky swear.”

He smiled toothily at his promise, rubbing Steve’s arm in a way he hoped was comforting. He really was sorry, but he didn’t want it to sour the night for them. There were still rides to go on and more sugar to consume, more things to cement the perfect night. 

“Hey, Billy, we—we should,” Max said, hanging back a few steps and chewing on her cheek like her brother did sometimes. “Let’s go, yeah? Go to the car?”

Billy frowned and looked at Steve in a way that said she’s insane, shaking his head. He gave Steve another encouraging little tug to get him moving, smiling and looking at the swings. The guys had left her behind but he’d go on them with her, get Steve to as long as those didn’t freak him out.  
***

“No…no, it’s okay. I’m…I’m okay.” Steve said. It was a big fat lie. Words like cardboard. He wasn’t okay. Maybe he’d never be okay again. He didn’t think Billy’d be okay in a minute either. 

Steve hated shattering the perfect night. Why couldn’t they have threatened them tomorrow? Why tonight? Why give their last warning tonight? What kind of sick fucks were these guys? They couldn’t even give them a proper chance for a goodbye? Even if they’d been warning him all week…it was cruel. This was cruel. It made Steve cruel. Billy was so happy - they’d both been so happy, only moments ago, on the Ferris wheel. He couldn’t stand it.

“I – I need to talk to you. We…we need to talk.” Steve said, voice stilted, drawing back from Billy’s touch on his arm. It burned him like hellfire, and he couldn’t seem to bear it. That touch felt like shame, like an accusation. Like everything Steve wanted and couldn’t have. Never again.  
***

“Uh, okay. But after the swings,” Billy said distractedly, letting his hand drop from Steve to clutch the giraffe under his other arm. Max didn’t take the hand he offered either and he rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder at her. “I know you’re pissed they left you, but Steve and I will go on ‘em with you. Ten times in a row if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I think maybe just...the car,” Max said, her voice fading into nothing. She didn’t move from her spot and people walked back and forth between her and the two of them, her eyes moving everywhere but forward. 

“No way, I’ve gotta get a few more rides under my belt and shove more food in my mouth,” Billy said with a shake of his head, making a dramatic waving motion to try and get them both to move, like some kind of air traffic controller. “Come on.”  
***

Steve wanted to go so bad. He loved the Yo-Yo. It was one of his favorite rides, like you were flying, really. He didn’t want to miss it. He wanted to go on it with Billy. But that hit-man guy had said now. He had visions of them both being shot to death on the goddamn swings because Steve couldn’t get up the freakin’ balls to just do this. He flinched.

“I made a mistake.” He burst out, his voice all over the freaking place. Pitching high and low. “I made a mistake, I made a mistake.” He had some kind of de-ja-vu, saying those words, but his brain was flat-lining and he didn’t remember from when. I made a mistake. I want to make things right. Steve blinked rapidly as he tried to think of how to explain himself. Licked his too-dry lips, felt them cracking, just like his heart.

“Maybe…maybe I…rushed into…moving in.” His stomach sank. It was the opposite. He’d been so excited to live together. It was their place. It was going to be home. Wherever Billy was.  
***

“Yeah, definitely. Like it didn’t take you forever,” Billy said with another roll of his eyes, hands flapping uselessly at his sides in a huff. “I told you we could’ve used my nest egg but nooo, you had to be all noble and shit.”

He looked at Max but she was just frozen still and honestly it was a little annoying but he tried not to let it get to him. He smiled at Steve instead, taking the chance to reach out and squeeze his hand softly before letting it go, walking backwards for a second. They still weren’t following so he made a fake stink of it, throwing his hands up again and turning around, absolutely fine with going to get ripped on sugar by himself until they both chilled out.  
***

Steve stared after him in something like horror. He wasn’t listening to him. Billy wasn’t listening. Well, okay, Steve wasn’t being particularly direct, but…Jesus. Was he going to have to say it outright? Steve was shaking his head, following a few steps after Billy, reaching out to try and grasp at the sleeve of his shirt. Trying to gently draw him back.

“Wait, wait, Billy – listen – please, listen, I – I’m sorry. I don’t want to, to do this here, now. I…” Steve felt something nameless, and overwhelming, welling up within his chest, too big of an emotion with nowhere to go. It felt like panic and not being able to breathe and lying in the tub with Billy’s arms around him, and the bite of a gun against his back. It was too much. He felt like crying.

“Can we please just go back to the car and talk? I don’t want to go either, but I…I…can’t do this with you. Anymore.” He finished up the end of the sentence slowly. A shiver passed over his body. “You didn’t do anything wrong...it’s...me.”  
***

Billy looked over his shoulder at Steve, mouth twisting a bit. His fingers were on Billy’s sleeve but it wasn’t a caress and it didn’t sit well with him, made him shake it off on instinct. He made himself turn around and tilted his head in confusion, looking like he’d bitten into something sour. 

“Kinda bad taste, you still freaked out or something?” he asked with a frown, reaching out to touch Steve’s forearm. “Let’s go sit down and eat something, yeah? Get something in your stomach. Max?”

Max wasn’t saying anything. She was separated by the crowd but still in sight, but she looked freaked out too. He didn’t know what was going on but that wasn’t a surprising feeling for him lately. He tried to brush it off and moved his hand from Steve’s arm, turning around and starting to stalk off. Maybe they’d both pull their heads out of their asses if he got to the food before them.  
***

Steve stared after Billy’s retreating back, his ears buzzing with static, and he realized that it was the blood rushing through his freaking head. It was pulsing with his heartbeat, fast as a hummingbird’s. Billy wasn’t – he wasn’t listening to him. It was like Steve’s words were going in one ear and out the other. Steve – Steve had been clear, right? He even did the whole ‘it’s not you it’s me’ bullshit, which, in this case was technically true…it was all Steve’s fault, and Steve was the one who’d fucked up. Billy’d never done anything wrong. He’d done everything right. But – 

“Hey – Billy! “ Steve started, but then he absolutely fucking froze. He had to blink, twice, to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. The entire world seemed to tilt on it’s axis, and Steve almost fell over. Equilibrium gone.

It was another thing Steve had never seen outside of movies. There was a tiny, dancing red dot of light on Billy’s back. Right between his shoulder blades. Like when you had a long distance rifle trained on you with a laser. Steve glanced over at Max in absolute fucking horror. 

“Do you – do you see that?!” He hissed at her.  
***

“Do it right now,” Max said, all the color draining out of her face, all the emotion draining out of her voice. “Steve. Do it. Right now.”

She couldn’t process what she was seeing, not really. It wasn’t like in the movies at all. There was no way to explain to herself what it felt like to see a gun setting its sights on her brother, right between his shoulders. To be so close to the reality of her brother being killed, being gone. In the face of that the decision was easy—as long as she didn’t think. 

“Steve.”  
***

It was real. It was real. It was real? It was real. Max could see it too. It was very real, and Billy could be really dead, soon.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, once, eyes desperately searching for any kind of source, but he didn’t see anyone – just normal everyday people milling around, smiling, chewing, laughing, the buzz and spin of games and rides, shrieks of delight that suddenly sounded more like terror. But he didn’t see the man with the gun. 

Steve twisted back towards Billy, his heart hammering, trying to think, think, think. Do it NOW. He realized there was really only one thing to be done. Because Billy wasn’t listening when Steve was trying to be good. Trying to be kind. Trying to let him down gentle. And there was no TIME. 

Steve had loved Nancy, once. And Steve had been cruel to Nancy, once. Even if he’d mostly taken it out on Jonathan. That, too, had been cruel. Uncalled for. If the hitman was planning on making Steve cruel – it wasn’t such a far stretch. It was like fitting on an old pair of gloves – he didn’t wear them anymore, but they still fit just fine. He remembered the shape of them around his fingers, and it was easy to make a fist. 

He sorta figured it was like in those movies when the animal wouldn’t go away, and you had to start throwing rocks at it. But it was for it’s own good. He wouldn’t let Billy die. Even if he’d hate Steve after.

Steve’s face immediately smoothed out, the wrinkles in his brow disappearing entirely, his face warping into something uncaring, something, someone, that couldn’t be touched. He couldn’t let himself think. He couldn’t let himself feel. He’d done too much of that already this week. He should have done this earlier. He should have never let it get to this point. The red dot danced before his eyes. 

“Hey HARGROVE.” Steve snapped out. The blood in his ears lessening to a low roar. His chest felt empty. Devoid. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Steve. Do it. Right now. “You’re not fucking listening to me. Do you not speak english? All that time in California, or what? I’m breaking up with you. We’re finished. Done. Comprende?”  
***

Billy turned around a whole lot quicker then, the whip of Steve’s voice making him tense for a split second. Confusion was written all over his face because—Jesus, Steve had yelled his name. The way he knew that Steve knew made him cagey. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, reaching out for Steve’s arm again. Like if he could just brush his fingers against Steve’s skin he’d snap out of it. “No you’re not, no we’re not.”

He sounded light and he was shaking his head but he could feel it. He could feel something creeping up his spine and making the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. In his periphery he could see a few people rubbernecking, could see Max in the background. All he could do was touch at Steve’s arm and shake his head, try to get him closer. 

“Don’t say shit like that, it’s not funny.”  
***

Steve jerked his arm out of Billy’s touch like he’d been burned, backing up a step, chin raising up, spine straightening, making him just that one inch taller than Billy – to the point where they could actually feel the height difference. Looking down at him. He tried not to look at the dot that was hovering on Billy’s chest now – just above his heart. He couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t. He wasn’t quite meeting his eyes, either, looking somewhere just to the right of them.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” His lip curled a little, eyes absolutely dead, like nothing was behind them. Empty. Even his voice was like that. Like the lights were on, but nobody was home. Like he didn’t freaking care. His nostrils flared, jaw clenching.

“Do I seem like I’m being funny to you? You don’t get to tell me what we are or aren’t doing. I’m telling you I’m breaking up with you. We’re done. I don’t want to see you again. Ever. Leave me alone.”  
***

“No, but you—“

Billy felt something frantic move over him, like poison seeping right into him. Steve didn’t look right at all. He didn’t look like he had on the Ferris wheel, staring at Billy like he was the most important thing on the planet. He looked—disgusted. It wasn’t right and he couldn’t accept it because then what was happening on top of the Ferris wheel? What had that been then?

What about—

“Every year, any time. That’s what you said. That’s what you said,” he said, words getting stuck in his throat, hands scrambling for Steve again despite the sting of rejection from before. His fingers closed on Steve’s sleeve in a death grip, eyes wide and wet and panicked. “Don’t say that, don’t say it. That’s not what you said.”  
***

Normally something would have twisted, somewhere in his guts, like intestines strangling him to death. Every year, any time. The way Billy looked. The way he looked close to tears, panic forming behind his eyes, grasping at Steve – desperate. Disbelieving. And for good reason. It was all for good reason, because this didn’t make sense. This was all fucked up. Steve was fucked up. 

He processed all of these things in some tiny back corner of his mind but he kept it muffled or he’d never be able to do this. He didn’t want to take back anything he’d said before. Because he still meant it all. But he also realized, in this moment – telling Billy he never wanted to see him again…ever…that it was a very real possibility. 

He might see him in passing, sure. Glimpses. Up until Billy left for California, which might be sooner rather than later, now. But it suddenly hit him – in that numb part of his mind – that he would never be with Billy Hargrove ever again. It was over. Billy would grow up without him. He’d find a new home without him. Create a family without him. But he’d be alive. He’d be free to do those things. Even if Steve wasn’t a part of it. He chose his words carefully that he said next.

“Well listen to what I’m saying now.” Steve spit out, shoving Billy off of him. Hard. The red light wavered on Billy’s chest, zig-zagging with the movement. “This isn’t working. We aren’t working. I’m going through some shit, and I don’t want you to be a part of it. Go live your own life doing whatever the fuck you want, and I’m staying out of it.” He made a hand washing movement, like he was washing his hands of him. “That way, you can have every year. On your own.”  
***

Steve might’ve had an inch or so on Billy, but now it felt more like a thousand feet. He was thrust right back into a frame of mind he hadn’t needed to be in for months. Keep quiet, keep yourself small, keep yourself still. Cut the lights and scramble back as far as you can. The shove sent him back a few steps and he stood frozen completely still there, hands limp at his sides with nothing to hold on to now. 

On your own. 

His face twisted into something miserable, old grief rearing up with something brand new. His eyes welled up but he didn’t look at Steve, tried to train his eyes a little to the side of him. That’s what you did when you were being hurt, to make yourself stand out less. So maybe nothing worse would happen. 

Except nothing could be worse than this.  
***

Steve felt his heart shatter behind a heavy glass pane when he saw Billy’s reaction as he staggered back from him. He knew he shouldn’t have shoved him. He never wanted to hurt him, never wanted to lift a finger against Billy. But Jesus, if he was holding onto Steve – touching him? This would never work, never happen. Steve would crumble. He needed to chase Billy away. Away from that little red light. Far, far away. And never come back.

“Leave. Go away.” Steve ground out, gritting his teeth. He tried motioning with his hand at Max behind his back, seeing the best time for her to get Billy away, with his defenses down. Get him to the car. Anything. Make the red light go away. Break up complete. Whatever that stupid fucking hit man wanted. Misery, that's what he wanted. Mission accomplished. “Please go.”  
***

Billy followed the trajectory of Steve’s hand, like he was shooing something unwanted away. He was shooing him away because he didn’t want him. He wanted him to go and he never wanted to see him again. His eyes stayed there even if he couldn’t see anything very well anymore, up until Max had her hand on Billy’s arm, tugging him the other way. Away from Steve. Away from every year, any time. Away from being everything to someone. 

He vaguely registered being piled into the wrong side of the car but didn’t think much of it. The engine started so maybe he was driving, even if it was a little worse than usual. He kept hitting the breaks for some reason, making the car jerk forward and back. Then the car just—stopped. Someone said his name and put his car keys in his lap, said something about getting someone. He didn’t respond because he just wasn’t there anymore, he wasn’t anything to anyone anymore. 

The second he felt the door shut it was like he’d been cracked open, everything hitting him at once. He screamed and sobbed and thrashed, hit the dashboard. It almost felt like something so he kept going, even when his hands got slippery and his left hand made a sound that he knew was wrong, pain shooting straight up his arm. He screamed so hard his nose bled, all over the white shirt Steve liked so much. He’d worn it today because Steve liked it, had picked it out himself out of their—

His. His closet. On his own.  
***

Susan hurried out of the trailer in her dressing robe and pajamas, pulling it around herself tight as she hurried down the steps towards the Camaro, trying to squint past the windows. She got around to the passenger side and pulled the door open, leaning down to peer into the dark interior, and a thrashing Billy. Beating against the dash – blood spilling from split knuckles, and from a gushing nose. He looked positively frantic.

“Billy! Billy, dear – what – what happened? Maxine just came in the house crying, you – what happened? Oh please, you’re hurting yourself – Billy!“ Susan gasped, touching at her mouth before she reached in to gently try and still Billy’s hands first – feather soft atop his broken knuckles to draw them away from the dash. Holding his large, bloodied hands between her much smaller, dainty ones.  
***

Billy shook his head, fighting to breathe because his chest had caved in. He was dying, Steve had ripped his heart out of his chest and there was a terrible, gaping hole there. He wanted to touch, to feel the damage but Susan—it was Susan. He tried to focus on her but she was nothing but a smear of color in front of him. He sobbed and looked down at their hands, at all the ugly red he’d gotten on to her. 

“He l-eft me,” he wailed, squeezing his eyes shut. It was no use anyway, he couldn’t distinguish what was making his skin wet anymore. “-He left me. I’m alone-. Mom, -mom-.”

Steve kissing him back on top of the Ferris wheel, telling him he loved him. That night on the kitchen table, Steve holding him close and crying with him. Steve begging him to stay, it wasn’t real. He was so stupid, stupid. No one wanted him. He knew that before and he’d just—lost it. He’d lost it somewhere but it was back and it was killing him. He didn’t get to have good things, he got flukes. He got glimmers of hope and he was too stupid to know any better. He did now.  
***

Susan’s pale blue eyes went wide, her ginger lashes fanning open at that – Steve, Steve…broke up with her Billy? That…that didn’t seem right. That didn’t seem like Steve Harrington at all. How could he have broken up with Billy? He was a sweet boy, and he hadn’t done anything wrong, Susan was sure – things had seemed to be going so well. They’d just gotten their own apartment.

Susan’s mouth flinched at Billy – Billy saying ‘mom.’ Billy…well, Billy had never called her mom. Not ever. He just seemed to have started getting used to saying ‘love yous,’ and it made Susan do a happy little dance in her heart every time he did, but…’mom’ was nowhere in that repertoire. However, she…she wasn’t entirely sure he as actually talking to her, or actually wanting his own mom. It was…so difficult to tell. But she would be however and whoever he needed her to be, crying and wailing and needing a mom. She could be that for him, if he needed her.

“Oh, oh…honey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re not alone. You’re never alone. You have us. You have me. Come on, dear, let me take you inside. Alright? I have your bed all nice and made up for you with fresh sheets. Come on inside…we can talk this through. It’ll be alright.” Susan started to guide Billy out of the car – he was far too large for her to lift, not like Maxine in a pinch. But she led him out of the car, shutting the door behind him with her slipper and ferried him inside, an arm around his back. “Now I’ll make you some hot chamomile tea and we can talk about it, and you can just cry, you just let it out. He’s clearly not the boy I thought he was at all. You are a catch, and any boy should be so lucky.”  
***

Billy shook his head in disagreement, walking on unsteady feet into the trailer. He’d never wanted to disagree with anything more in his fucking life but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk anymore. He wiped at his face with his arm and was greeted with blood and tears, closed his eyes to it as he was eased onto the couch. He seemed to crumble into a million pieces then, curled up on his side with his arms close to his chest while every happy part of him withered up inside of him one at a time. 

Every memory felt sour, every good thing tainted by a face he wasn’t supposed to ever see again. Flashes of dark brown eyes had him sobbing all over again, or maybe he’d never stopped. In his mind they weren’t happy or filled with love anymore. They were blank with disinterest, his full mouth a flat line of disgust. The hands that had pieced him back together had shoved hard, had swatted him away like a pest, had motioned for someone to take him away. To get rid of him. 

Steve.  
***

They’d left Steve alone. Since that night at the fair, those fuckers had left him alone. It had been about a week. A week of dredging through work, and life, and it felt like no time had passed at all. The boys had found Steve slumped over by the tree close to where he’d split up with Billy. On the ground and curled up, head against his knees, arms braced there as he cried, body shuddering with sobs. Will had called Jonathan from a payphone. He’d driven them all home, including Steve. Steve had very little recollection of that ride, just a sack of shit in the passenger seat, forehead against the glass, the talking around him a buzz of noise like bees, nonsensical. Or maybe his ears were still ringing. 

He’d told them what happened, in brief bits and pieces, so they all knew. They knew all of it. The whole sad, stupid, fucking story. What a piece of garbage Steve was. That was an important part of it. Probably like the main part, he figured. 

He’d slogged through the week and it was finally his ‘Saturday’ which was actually Monday. He didn’t usually get weekends off. Steve hadn’t shaved in like…yeah he hadn’t shaved. He’d showered like, once that week he guessed? Mostly because he’d just wanted to sit in there and cry. He hadn’t really looked at his hair. It was funny because he never used to cry. Ever, hadn’t for years. But apparently something about dating Billy had opened that part of him back up. His dad would be so ashamed. 

Speaking of parents, the house was big, and quiet, and empty. Like usual. Steve ached for the trailer with Billy, and he ached for the brief time that he’d had in their own place – but he hadn’t been there for that, not really. It was all tarnished, all jaded, by the ‘bad men.’ His whole life was jaded by them. The Upside Down was their fault, too, after all. 

Steve hadn’t been sleeping. The stress hadn’t been lifted off of his shoulders with the disappearance of the government lackeys – he figured, they were still watching, they just weren’t in his fucking face. But surely keeping tabs. But at least he could be assured of Billy’s safety, as long as Steve kept his distance. That was a worry off of his mind, the most important one. But it also meant he didn’t have Billy. So it was replaced with a new one. It felt like he was mourning someone who had died. Like grief. All encompassing grief.

He had a scruff on his face and had dark circles under both eyes. He’d been drunk every night this week. Today on his day off, he’d started day drinking at nine. He was already kind of sloshed, and it was only around noon. Twelve o’clock somewhere. Here. 

Steve hadn’t been answering the phone, and it had rung a lot. The walkie was switched off, too. He knew it was probably the kids. Maybe Nancy. Maybe Jonathan, fuck, maybe even Hopper. Fuck Hopper. He said he’d fix it. He said he’d help. He hadn’t helped shit. Bunch of bullshit, acting like he could do anything. Billy had almost died. It had been so close. If Steve hadn’t chased him off when he did….the second that red light had gone away, Steve felt like the puppet strings that had been keeping him suspended were clipped. Gotten him slumped against that tree. Crying. He didn’t care who was watching him, rubbernecking like they were watching some horrible train wreck. Steve was a total train wreck. 

He’d been wearing the same shirt the last couple nights – it was one of Billy’s Metallica concert shirts he’d left at Steve’s. He’d cried into it last night, curled up in bed, and just hadn’t taken it off. It still smelled a little like his cologne. He snuffled and rubbed his face against the sleeve, in nothing but that and his Hawkins High sweats, eyes red rimmed and puffy. Just tipsy enough on the sofa that he couldn’t feel the pain of it quite so bad. He didn’t want just the shirt. He wanted Billy for real. 

Billy.  
***

“We’d be better off putting it in the garbage, Maxine,” Susan said, tutting for about the twelfth time in the short span it took to get to Steve’s. “I told you that, honey. Bad enough having to see Billy like that while we packed it.”

Max sighed and put her fingers through the door handle to push it open, moving around to the trunk and popping it. She tried not to think about it while she lugged the three boxes to Steve’s doorstep, tried to just focus on what she was doing in the present. It wasn’t Steve’s fault and she knew that, only she couldn’t tell her mom. 

Plus, it didn’t change how Billy had looked at the apartment. Worn down and looking a little thinner already, plates of food from her mom uneaten on the coffee table. Still crying all the time, cramming all of his vacation time together to wallow. Billy didn’t deserve that, he deserved to go on a trip. He deserved to be happy, but things just—didn’t work like that sometimes. Him being alive was the trade off for that, though it got harder to look at every day. 

She tapped her fingers on the red front door, soft and first and then more forceful, shouting Steve every few seconds. Hoping he’d answer, not ignore it like he’d ignored the phone calls.  
***

Steve looked up tipsily from the sofa, where he was curled up against the arm – the television set was on a blue screen from when he’d let a vhs rewind like, three days ago, and all the lights were on. Things were a mess from hunting for bugs. If his mom showed up she’d flip her freaking lid. He took another swig of whiskey straight from the bottle and squinted at the knocking that was progressively growing louder, making his head hurt. He wondered if it was that hitman come knocking. He laughed a little to himself so he wouldn’t cry instead. Come knocking. Yeah. Funny shit man. Steve was so funny. But then he heard Max – it had to be Max – calling his name. Steve’s face ground up into a puffy, annoyed mess. 

“GO AWAY.” He yelled back at her, stuffing his face into a throw pillow, hugging the bottle against his chest. “Leave me alone,” he continued to yell into the pillow, muffled. “Nobody’sss HOME.”  
***

Max frowned at the door and the distinctly wasted sound of Steve on the other side. Three sheets to the wind and it was barely halfway through the day. She remembered Dustin showing her the hide-a-key for emergencies and if there ever was one, this was it. So she abandoned the boxes to go search for the stupid concrete frog in the backyard, trekking her way back to the front door. There wasn’t any hesitation. 

“Steve, I’m just coming to drop stuff,” she said as she made her way to the sound of Steve’s voice, dropping the first box off in the foyer on her way. She stopped short at the sight of Steve, the same but also different from what she’d seen on the couch at Billy’s place. He hadn’t been drunk but he’d still been out of his mind, and the longer they spent away from the apartment the more nervous she got about it. “Steve, can I—have you eaten anything?”  
***

Howww the fuck did she get in? Dammit he never should have told Dustin where the hide-a-key was. He frowned up at Max, his throat still sparking with the burn of the whiskey, heavy on his breath, frowning at her, eyelids half lowered. He had a clearly displeased look on his face, swaying a little on the sofa as he stared. He ran a hand a little self-consciously over the front of his – Billy’s – Metallica shirt and looked away from her judgy look. 

“’m not hungry. Dropping…what stuff?” Steve looked around the room distractedly, not at her. Didn’t want to look at her. Reminded him too much of Billy. She even had so many of his mannerisms, even if they’d both have denied it, it wasn’t even funny. Steve felt like he’d been walking around with a hole for a heart, and he didn’t need to be reminded by looking at her blue eyes like Billy’s. He didn’t really know when he’d last eaten, but for once in his life, he hadn’t been hungry..

It was a lot of heartbreak, mixed up with a mess of guilt. He knew that, in the end, he’d done the right thing – he’d made sure Billy lived. But it was that sudden…stillness in Billy. Watching him shrink small. When Steve shoved him. He shouldn’t have done that. He’d just needed him to GO. Run. Had he scared him? Hurt him? He hated him. Billy hated him. Steve was worth hating. How could he hurt someone he loved so much? How could he say those things so flippantly? Be so cruel? What did that say about Steve? Even if it was ‘for the best?’ 

He’d never see Billy again, not really. Not ever. Never talk to him again. It was like he was really dead, at least for Steve. He’d never touch him again, and the last time Billy tried to, Steve had shoved him away. Told him not to fucking touch him, when all he wanted was to touch Billy. Be with him. The same thoughts had been chasing around his head. Kept him up. Dissolved his appetite. Got him to drinking to make it just stop for a minute, or at least lower the volume a little. He kept replaying it over and over, on this terrible little nightmare loop in his mind, from the house of mirrors to when Billy finally left.  
***

“I’ll just leave them in the front room,” Max said, not sure of just how negative Steve’s reaction might be if she mentioned exactly where the boxes came from. “I’m gonna make you something.”

She moved into the kitchen, pausing every few seconds to toss away bottles and leftover food. There was a lot of it and she could smell the alcohol on Steve, reminded distinctly of her dad back in California. She kind of went on autopilot, cleaning the kitchen as she threw a few things from the fridge on the counter to make a sandwich. It wasn’t like that for her anymore but it was still something in the back of her mind, something that got her moving quick. Trying to fix something even if she didn’t know how much hope there was for it. 

A few minutes later she came back out to the living room and set a plate in front of Steve, perching herself on the armrest of the couch. He looked a lot like Billy, like there was a big piece missing. All of it was wrong. 

“I wanna tell Billy. I mean, I don’t wanna tell him anything bad,” she said, fiddling with the hood of her sweatshirt. “I just—Steve, he’s gotta know you still love him. This isn’t right.”  
***

Steve stared at the plate of food in front of him, turning his face away. Even the sight of it made his stomach turn. He’d just told her he wasn’t hungry – he’d said that, right? Why’d she go and get him something, then? He was big boy. He could take care of himself.

He startled at what Max was saying, once it actually registered in his addled mind - glancing up at her sharply, still clutching at his dad’s whiskey cabinet bottle. He scowled at her. 

“I…what, no – you, you can’t, Max. If he knows – if he knows, that…that was the whole POINT of all of this…this bullshit. My bullshit.” He made a face on the word ‘bullshit,’ lips drawing back over his teeth in an ugly grimace. His fucking eyes pricked up. “They told me…had to be real. Had to make it look real. That they were watching. Couldn’t just say…couldn’t just say, ‘love you, trust me, I can’t come back – but, trust me.’ Nooo. Couldn’t say that.” 

He pinched at the bridge of his nose, wiping at an eye. Took a sip from the bottle, squinting at the ceiling. 

“I thought…I…did something dumb. I thought so…too, see. I sent him…sent him these coupons. For. For hot chocolate. In the mail – didn’t put my address on them, or anything…thought he might. Get it, y’know? Told him, once, when we…had hot chocolate that I..loved him. Loved him, and I’d love him unless he, you know, didn’t want me to love him anymore. Broke up with me. I meant it, Max. I was just lying before, just lying to him to get him to go, was such an asshole - but you saw the mark on him. You saw it too. I can’t…risk him being dead. Not over me. You think I - I don’t know how fucked up this is? Think I don’t know it’s not right?”

Steve twisted his hands around the body of the bottle, making the glass squeak in his palms. 

“I know. Doesn’t change shit. He’s...prob’ly..better off without me. Fucking everything up. Now he can...find a normal guy. Love a normal guy.” Steve blinked away tears furiously, swiping at his eyes and looking anywhere but at Max, the bottle tipping over in his lap. He should be out of tears by now. Empty, dried up, just a husk. “He doesn’t...deserve to be dragged into all this. He doesn’t. He’s gone through enough. But I...I miss him, Max. I miss him so bad.”  
***

“He’s not better off, if you saw him you’d know he’s not better off,” Max spat, though she knew it wasn’t Steve’s fault. She knew who she was angry at but they weren’t here. They’d probably never be here again because of what Steve did, what Steve had to do. “It’s not—hasn’t anyone been by? Hasn’t anybody come to check on you?”

She had a difficult time believing that Dustin wouldn’t have come to the door by now, not with what Steve looked like right now. He looked sick but like, deep down. Like his heart was sick. Like a word her mom had used about grandpa. Terminal. 

“Just—eat it,” she said, leaning forward to push the plate closer on the coffee table. “Eat something.”  
***

Steve frowned at her, misunderstanding the venom in her voice for him. He stared at her, brow dipping low.

“He’s not dead. That’s what counts. It has to count for something. It – it’s only been a week.” Steve swallowed, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to think about the state Billy was in. He couldn’t. It was all Steve’s fault Billy was hurting. He’d broken too many promises. “They say time…time heals everything.” Jesus he hoped that was true.

He turned up his nose at the plate. It looked disgusting. The smell was making his stomach twist nauseously. He realized he might throw up, in that second, pressing the back of his wrist up against his mouth, shaking his head.

“Don’t, don’t want it. And…Dustin, he was here, but I…yelled at him. I don’t remember when.” Days? Hours, ago? He didn’t know. “Just...leave. Please leave.”

Talking to Max was bringing the pain in his chest back to the surface, this open, gaping wound that was festering just beneath his breastbone where his heart used to be.  
***

“I’m gonna—tell somebody to check on you tomorrow,” Max said, standing up from the couch and swallowing hard, the discomfort coming off her in waves. This wasn’t Steve. This was some dilapidated person in front of her and it was...scary. 

She went and put the other two boxes in the foyer, about to leave. Someone should stay with Steve, do something. But they’d tried that, they’d tried to do something. No one had been able to fix it. Maybe there wasn’t anything that could even be fixed now. 

“I—bye, Steve.”  
***

It had been two weeks since Hopper’d gotten the call from Steve Harrington. Two weeks since he’d gone to his place. Found out what was happening. Found out he’d been too late. But what was done was done. And Hopper couldn’t take it back. He was over at Joyce’s house, helping her with making a salad. She actually knew a lot about cooking and things and she’d been helping him out a little, trying to add on to their dinner menu at the cabin that wasn’t just TV dinners. She told him old dogs could learn new tricks. He wasn’t too sure about that.

Jane and Will were sitting in the living room on the couch trying to pick a movie to watch after dinner, and Jonathan was in his room listening to some god awful music that Hopper wouldn’t have exactly called ‘music.’ Not really. But y’know, Kids. But it was nice, really. Felt like family.  
***

Will watched Jane rifle through the stack of tapes next to the TV, happy to sit and watch the tapes float around before being set down. It looked like she’d stopped on Mr. Mom. He really liked that one, even if Mike gave him crap about it sometimes. Jack reminded him of Steve sometimes, maybe that was why. 

But they weren’t really talking about Steve the last two weeks. Dustin still checked on him but there’d been a time Dustin had come back to his house instead, looking sadder than usual, told Will that Steve had yelled at him. Like, real yelling, not the kind Steve did when he was stressed. Not like how he’d been when they’d found him at the fair—just him. 

“I really like that one,” he piped up, pointing to the tape floating in front of Jane. “Maybe Pile?”

He didn’t get a response because Jane got a funny look on her face, like she’d smelled something bad. He knew what it was when he heard a car he recognized very well, except it wasn’t stopping when it got within sight. It made him jump off of the couch and scramble behind it but then it—did. Right across the front lawn, and he knew who was coming out, only he didn’t look like himself. Didn’t look like Billy at all, swaying and stumbling and making some kind of noise outside that Will could hear from the living room. 

Crying.  
***

Hopper looked up sharply from where he was slicing a tomato, Joyce laughing and bumping her hip against his as she flicked a little bit of soapy water at him with her fingertips after she’d washed up her knife. He’d leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead when he heard the roar of the Camaro’s engine. He heard the unmistakable sound of spinning out tires in dirt, not the gravel of the drive, and focused on the door from the kitchen. 

“Is that – that sounds like Billy Hargrove’s car?” Joyce murmured, drying her hands on a tea towel with little birds on it. “What on earth is he doing here? Is….do you hear that? Hop?”

“Yeah, yeah I hear it.” Hopper sighed and set down the knife, oozing tomato seeds and guts, before he started for the front door. He wasn’t in uniform – he was in a plain blue plaid button up and a pair of Levis, but his hat was hanging up by the front door on a hook. 

He pointed in the living room. “You kids stay put, hear me?”

He got to the door first – even if, well, it wasn’t his house, but he figured Joyce wouldn’t mind. He spun the lock open and got the door open, ready to step out onto the front porch. He suspected he knew what this was about.  
***

Billy tried about five times to close the driver’s side door, or maybe it just seemed like five. He got his jacket stuck in it the fourth time, the one Susan got him for his birthday. That day had been a lie, everything was a lie. Hopper was a liar and he was here to tell him that. He couldn’t quite stop falling down but he’d get to the door eventually, the door that was open now. 

“You, you fuckin’—lied,” he slurred, wiping his face roughly with his forearm, falling down again and gathering himself up slowly. He could see the kids staring through the window at him, little Will Byers’ face twisted up in horror. Illusion shattered. He should get used to that. “Fucking liar. You said-you said things would g-get better.”

The second his boot hit the porch he was shoving at Hopper as hard as he could. Something stopped him from throwing a punch, maybe because he knew now that that wasn’t the worst way to hurt someone. Shoving them was, shoving them in the center of their chest as hard as possible, that was how you did it. How you broke them apart. 

***

“Woah woah, hey now – “ Hopper was saying, shaking his head, holding out a hand to Billy like he was trying to offer him some kind of calm through the gesture. An appeasing one. He’d closed the door behind him, trying to spare the kids from whatever was happening, though he’d known Joyce was hot on his heels. But Billy was already up in his face, tripping up to him over the lip of the porch to shove at him. Hard, in the center of his chest, but it was pretty damn close to pushing against a plaid wall. Hopper didn’t budge, aside from maybe shifting on his work boots a little, planting them better. 

He didn’t move to stop him - even if he wanted to keep hitting at him, pushing at him, he wouldn’t stop him. He’d let him get it out first, then try to get him straightened out. He could see how messed up the kid was – crying like the world was ending. And Hopper, he knew. He knew what this kid had been through. Hopper’d been through it, too. Nobody knew better than him. And he knew that this, on top of everything else, was close to too much. And when you were a teenager…everything was so MUCH. Too much. Like the world was ending and nothing would ever get better. Especially not a broken heart. 

“Now look. It’s not a lie, kid. It’s not a lie. These things take time, and it’s not gonna be perfect, and it may not be the way you planned for it to get better. Or the way I did. Things are gonna work out the way they’re gonna work out, the way they’re meant to, and you gotta trust that.”  
***

“It is a lie, everybody lied and I believed you,” Billy said through gritted teeth, shoving and shoving but nothing was happening. Nobody was breaking but him, finally on his feet for the first time in two weeks to get shitfaced, drive here. “He lied. Every year, he said every year. He said don’t fucking touch me. He said I don’t wanna see you again. Ever.”

His fingers curled into a harsh grip against Hopper’s flannel, trying to shake him like his dad used to, like a rag doll. The only one moving was him, hands like anchors as he thrashed and screamed at Hopper and cried, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come. 

“I hate you. I don’t get good things, you made me forget,” he wailed, squeezing his eyes shut so he couldn’t see the look on Jane’s face, on poor Will Byers’. “You made me forget I’m shit, I’m nothing. I’m not forgetting again. I won’t forget again. I hate you.”  
***

The summer crickets were silent, the owls in the surrounding trees gone quiet, and nothing but the stars seemed to be present besides them. Hopper knew this was one of those moments. One of those rare moments that were important in life. It was important for Hargrove, important for Jim, and important for those people inside. His family. It was a defining moment, he guessed, in a lotta different ways. He let Billy beat against him until he started to tire, like waves against a stone, thrashing much the way Mike Wheeler had when he found out Jim had been keeping Jane from him for her own good. 

He waited until Billy grabbed onto his shirt, tugging at it like he could make some kind of a difference, but his mass didn’t shift at all, like a big old tree not being phased by a strong wind, no matter how it howled. Finally, Hopper reached out to gently grasp at either of Billy’s shoulders with big, rough hands. He didn’t grab hard, kept his touch soft as he knew how, knew what Billy’d had to face with his old man and he didn’t wanna spook him none.

“That’s alright. That’s alright, and you can hate me all you want. But you listen up, Hargrove. You listen good. Alright?” Hopper kept his voice low, but there was an intensity about it. Something that made you want to listen. He lowered his head enough that he could really look Billy in the eye, still steadying his shoulders. “This town is full of secrets. It’s full of lies. I think you know that. But you think real hard about what you just told me – ‘bout him lying. He told you every year. Then told you he didn’t wanna see you again. When he told you either – which one of those felt like a lie? Huh? You’re a smart kid. I heard it, you graduated top of your class. I need you to use that brain o’yours now. What was the reason. Did he give you one? I’ll tell you what it wasn’t. It wasn’t that you’re shit. Wasn’t that you’re nothin’. You’re neither of those things. You’re a whole lot more than that. I can’t answer this for you. I can’t. I need you to think. Really think.”  
***

This isn’t working. We aren’t working. I’m going through some shit, and I don’t want you to be a part of it. Go live your own life doing whatever the fuck you want, and I’m staying out of it. That way, you can have every year. On your own.

Billy tried to think, he did, except. Except it was too hard. He remembered every word clear as a bell but beyond that—static. Every time he tried to delve into it or pick it apart his brain, wasted as it was, crumbled into nothing. It got more frustrating every second, talking all falling away, replaced by nothing but weeping. An open, pained sound as he frowned in confusion at Hopper, trying. Trying. 

“M’too stupid, can't think,” he slurred, face crumpling, eyebrows knitting together helplessly. “Sorry.”  
***

Hopper huffed a sigh, his moustache twitching. He guessed he probably should’ve seen that coming. But hey, at least the kid had calmed down a little. And maybe he’d planted some kind of seed in his brain so when he was sober, he’d use it. He slapped Billy once on the shoulder.

“That’s alright kid. Not stupid. Just – c’mon, let’s get you inside. Some coffee and food in that belly and you’ll be right up there with Einstein again.”  
He carefully wrapped one sturdy, comforting arm around Billy’s shoulders then, slowly starting to guide the younger man up the steps, across the rickety porch and towards the faded door. The door instantly swung open like Joyce had been peering through the peephole and saw them coming in. She was holding it open with a tight smile and gave a little wave.

“Hello Billy. It’s nice to see you. Are you – are you hungry? We have plenty to go around.”  
***

“M’sorry, Miss Byers,” Billy said, sinking into himself, small again. “M’really sorry.”

Will shook his head from the couch, face contorted with worry. It was scary to see Billy like this, after spending months looking at him. Seeing him irritated or in love, laughing or rolling his eyes. Now Billy Hargrove wasn’t some shiny, tan Barbarian with his shirt half open and smiling with all his teeth. He was shrinking to nothing in front of them, apologetic and almost pale. 

“No sorries,” Jane said with a frown, Will nodding with her, her eyes turning to Hop’s. “Shouldn’t be sorry when your heart hurts.”  
***

Hopper caught Jane’s eye with a soft smile, one that didn’t quite fit the 6’4 man with a gruff voice and frame like a bear’s or a rough hand. He gave her a look that said ‘that’s right.’  
“Jane’s right. No sorries.” Jim agreed, squeezing Billy’s shoulder gently. “Heartache’s a real bi-” He caught a look from Joyce. “B-bas-? B...bump...kin.” He squinted at her until she finally nodded.

“Right. And definitely no sorries in my house.” Joyce smiled at Billy like he was the apple of her eye, ushering him inside with fluttery hands. “Do you need some tissues? I know I have some here somewhere.” She blinked, turning in a little semi-circle with a searching look, before she hurried towards the bathroom to pluck a box from inside off the toilet tank. She brought it back like she was presenting some great gift. 

“There we go! See? Knew we still had some. Jonathan tells me if my head weren’t screwed on I’d lose that too. Now listen, why don’t you come sit on the couch with the kids, and help them choose a movie? We have so many it’s hard to decide. We’d love to have you for dinner, dear. Don’t you worry about a thing.” 

“I’ll brew us some coffee.” Hopper added. “Strong coffee.”  
***

Billy nodded, taking the box from her hands and trying to smile too. It didn’t work, not at all but Joyce was still looking at him like he was good and he wasn’t—no one was telling him to go away. So he stumbled towards the couch, Hopper’s hand on one shoulder, Joyce’s on the other. 

Will and Jane instantly parted to make room for Billy in between them, Jane pulling a tissue out of the box to wipe at Billy’s cheeks. Will’s hand closed around Billy’s hesitantly, visibly deflating in relief when Billy found his fingers and squeezed. It was just about all he was capable of but it was enough. 

“The Dark Crystal?” Will suggested, tilting his head to try and get to Billy’s eyes but there wasn’t anything there. Just blank and sad. “We’ll watch that one.”  
***

Jim brewed up a pot of strong ass coffee, pouring it black, just like he took it. He figured Billy might light it the same. He knew he couldn’t drink much this late or he’d never get to sleep – getting old was a bitch, same as heartache, but he guessed he couldn’t say that either or he’d get scolded by Joyce. He carried two mugs from Joyce’s cabinet to the coffee table to set one down in front of Billy on the coaster, between them and the TV set. 

He sipped at his own, sliding a hand into his pocket, thumb sticking out as he stared out the window at the Camaro laying in wheel ruts on the lawn. He’d have to fix that tomorrow. It was good he had the day off (or at least, as much as you ever got a ‘day off’ as the Chief of Police.) He guessed he’d spend it mulching.

“Drink up, kid.” He nodded down at Billy. 

Joyce hurried back into the living room with her normal sort of frantic energy, smiling sweetly down at Billy as she offered him and the two kiddos a cookie, with mugs of hot chocolate. She winked at them, making a shushing gesture with her finger. “A pre-dinner snack. Don’t tell Hopper.”

“I’m literally right here.” 

“Well Billy needs to eat something and dinner’s not ready yet, so why not have something sweet, hm? They’re chocolate. It’s good for the heart. Do you also want some hot chocolate, Billy? After your coffee, that is. I made extra on the stove.”  
***

Billy froze up, hands shaking so bad that his mugs were pushed away from him. He didn’t know what was happening, just that he was crying so hard he thought he might be sick, taking in loud gulps of air as his brain short circuited. 

“The—letters—coupons,” he stuttered, frowning down at his hands, shaky and blurry as they were. 

Jane reached to grab at them, pulling them closer until she could get Billy to look up. She played with Billy’s left hand, pushing all of his fingers in except the first two, kept them like that. Then she lifted it to her head, slowly moving it back into Billy’s own chest. Leaving it there for a silent moment, only the sounds of Billy crying in the living room. Not the sound of her talking, but mouthing silently. 

Bad Men.  
***

Everybody was absolutely quiet. Joyce wordlessly took another tissue and gently dabbed at Billy’s face, the mom in her taking over even though she barely even knew the boy. But she knew by the way Steve had talked about him – like he’d hung the moon – that he was a good boy. Even if he had broken one of her grandmother’s dishes and wiped the floor with Steve in the same breath. The whole situation was devastating – but when weren’t things in this terrible little town? She wished, some days, that she’d taken Bob up on the move. Get out of here. Get away from the blackness at the heart of Hawkins. It caused pain, pain like this. 

Hopper was thinking about what Billy said – something about coupons, letters. And Jane gesturing with the ‘gun’ – her favorite symbol for the ‘bad men.’ 

“You know what makes a good cop, Hargrove? Keeping your eyes open. Listening to your gut. Paying attention. Looking for signs. Use your intuition. Think.”  
***

The next day, hungover for maybe the first time in his life, Billy decided to think. He sat in the apartment—only his now, empty and quiet—despite Susan’s protests and thought. In front of him the evidence of his confusion was fanned out over the coffee table. Envelopes, a lot of them. Three long and six smaller, only the smaller ones opened. Inside there were coupons for hot chocolate, obviously haphazardly cut out of a newspaper or a catalogue. The smaller envelopes had no return address but the way his name was written on the front was familiar. Very familiar. The three large envelopes were still sealed and though those weren’t written on Billy knew exactly what they were. Rent, Steve’s half of it. He hadn’t touched them after he picked them up from the mail slot, had dug into his nest egg instead. He wasn’t taking Steve’s money.

But then…

Why was Steve sending him rent at all? He wasn’t here, obviously, he wasn’t going to be here because Billy was on his own now. Was he just sending it because he could? Because he had the money. Steve wasn’t like that though, Billy knew that, or at least he thought he did. Absolutely nothing about that day made sense in its entirety, not when he looked back on it. 

The Ferris wheel, with Steve saying that he loved him. Every year, any time just like they always said. Don’t forget. Kissing each other like maybe one day they’d live in a world where it wouldn’t have to be reserved for the very top of a carnival ride when they were in public. Like everything could really be perfect. 

Then the whiplash of what happened right after—the Funhouse. Max going back to get Steve and pulling him along, the look on Steve’s face. The look on Steve’s face. Max saying—do it now. Why—he hadn’t thought about it then. He—

-I made a mistake. I made a mistake.- 

He stacks the envelopes on top of each other carefully, corners touching precisely like he’s handling evidence. Maybe he is. Evidence of not knowing, what it looks like when you know nothing at all. 

He’s still trying to parse all of it on the way to the garage, trying to remember what Hopper said. It’s hard with his head pounding and eyes burning, with knowing that the rest of the day will be filled with loud noises, loud smells. He’s right after he clocks in, oil changes and the sound of gears and bad dad rock filling his ears. 

It’s not unusual to hear the door swing open, the old bell hung at the top of it clanking together. He lifts his head like always and then his brain shuts down, wrench falling out of his hand to the floor, nausea creeping up that’s got nothing to do with drinking himself into a coma the night before. 

He looks around helplessly but the other guys are busy with their heads and hands stuck in cars they’re working on. After a minute he stands, moves closer even though every single part of him is telling him to go the other way. 

“Sorry, I’m—the only one available.”

***

Steve couldn’t believe he’d gotten stuck all the way out by Mirkwood. Fuckin’ Mirkwood. He didn’t even know why he’d been driving around. Trying to clear his head, he guessed. Had the windows down. Driving faster than he should have, normally would have. Leaning a little closer to Bily’s end of the speedometer. Like maybe he was there too. As if. Steve had taken care of that ever happening again. He just knew that the Beamer had stopped, and steam had poured out from under the hood. He’d had to walk his happy ass to a payphone at a gas station, too far home to walk, and his car was belching steam or-or smoke or something, he didn’t really know. He didn’t know cars. 

When the tow truck showed, it took him straight to the auto shop – the only one in town. Maybe they had a receptionist. A front desk person? Billy was….Billy was in the back. He’d know the car, sure, but – Steve could be out of there by then. Just check in, give them his insurance card, and…and…Steve froze as the door jingled above him. Staring, staring like a deer in headlights with big old doe eyes. 

Steve knew he’d seen better days – he wasn’t one to talk…he hadn’t been going anywhere. He’d been holed up in the house. He still had a bit of a scruff, though it wasn’t much – he couldn’t grow facial hair that fast, or much. He hadn’t showered in a few days, and his hair was probably a little greasy, and he was suddenly a little too aware that he was definitely in nothing but old sweats and a t-shirt that had a stain on the front. He probably looked homeless. Not himself. Self conscious. But Billy didn’t look himself either. 

He looked….thinner. Steve would say thinner. Almost kind of, ragged around the edges, worn down, though his clothes were about what he’d expect – the same cute jumper thing that Steve had peeled Billy out of more than once. The sight of him, like some light had gone out of him - some bright, all brilliant ‘Billy’ light - made Steve’s veins shrivel up, full of dust. He thought he might throw up. Throat tight. 

Steve bit at his lip, and immediately dropped his eyes to the floor, worrying at it as he took a few shuffling steps forward, immediately shoving his hands in his sweat pockets. Shit. He’d seen Billy in passing – here and there, glimpses really. Mostly at the arcade as they were dropping kids off, but Billy never came inside, even when Steve did like he was trying to get his life together. He’d stolen a glance at Billy, more than once – but the second their eyes met, Steve always looked away. Burning with guilt. Sick with it. But they hadn’t talked. Jesus, they hadn’t talked in a month. And Steve, Steve told himself it was for the best. Steve told himself it had to be, because it kept Billy alive, and he’d do anything to protect him. Anything. Even if it meant keeping himself away. 

“Uh.” He said, so articulate. Suave, really. He needed to get away from him, he was sure. Even if he hadn’t seen the buick around in a few weeks. “Yeah, yeah that um, that’s fine...h..hi. Hello.”  
***

Billy hadn’t heard Steve’s voice in a month. It sounded—weathered, and Steve didn’t look much better than he sounded. But he tried not to look too long, especially when Steve looked away quicker than he had a chance to. Right. I don’t want to see you again. He’d make it easier, then. 

He chewed viciously on the inside of his cheek as he stepped around Steve, pulling a clipboard off the wall, the usual paperwork already fitted under the clasp with a pen attached by an old string. He wrote an x next to every signature, flipping through the papers, then handed it to Steve. His stomach flipped again as he made sure to hold it at the furthest end away from Steve’s hand, ducking out of the garage and toward the tow truck, mumbling front desk when you’re done. 

He ushered the Beamer into the garage and signed what the tow guy needed, teeth still sinking into his mouth as he popped the hood. Piston rings were worn to shit, like Steve never had the thing taken in before. Probably didn’t, and that was as far as he let himself think. He walked to the front desk and silently wrote piston ring replacement — 3, glancing at Steve like he’d catch fire if he looked too long. 

“Two hours, give or take.”  
***

Steve felt absolutely cowed. Like when he’d been young and he’d done something horribly wrong, like lit the rug on fire, and his dad was so fucking disgusted or like, ashamed of him. And there had been no way to fix the way his dad looked at him. Like a disappointment. And there was no way to fix it with Billy, either. 

Steve had sat there for a minute in the waiting room, glaring at the peel ‘n stick tiles at his feet like it was somehow their fault Steve was a huge fuck up. Considering messing with the candy machine just to give himself something to do so that he wouldn’t sort of self implode. Thinking about how, when Billy’d reached by him for the clipboard, the hairs along Steve’s arms had stood up at attention like there was static electricity in the air. Goosebumps blossoming. Like it was an actual physical ache between them, something he could almost taste, his very bones responding to it. Wanting to turn to him like a flower to the sun, life-giving. 

And he couldn’t reach out and touch. Couldn’t even turn towards him, holding his breath instead. The sharp pang that it had shocked awake in him, where his heart used to beat, being so close, for just a second, had been almost dizzying. Nearly knocking him flat on his ass. His body – his entire freaking body – had been missing Billy Hargrove. It made him feel jittery, unhinged. Like some kind of a drug he’d been addicted to, and the hit was so close, but he couldn’t quite get his hands on it. Like he needed a fix. He’d never been addicted to anything like he’d been addicted to Billy. 

God he loved him. And he’d done this to him. To them both. 

Steve’s throat had closed up before Billy left him in the waiting room, before he could even say anything. And now Billy was back. Talking to him, if you could call it that. Scarcely looking at him. Steve stared at the clip board, and his throat had that feeling like where you knew you were gonna cry, but if you opened your mouth you’d DEFINITELY start to cry. So he just nodded dumbly, staring at his own scribbled autographs across the sheet of paper. The paper swam.

“Mm.” He hummed noncommittally, unable to open his mouth without it wavering, blinking rapidly. He chanced a ‘thanks’ without it breaking too bad.  
***

Billy slunk back into the garage, anything to get away, get it over with. The sound of Steve saying thanks was like a brand, the pain bright and hot and suddenly his nausea was too much, choking him in seconds. He pushed out of the nearest garage door and puked out of sight, waving away one of the guys but eventually accepting a bottle of water. It took a minute to straighten up enough to wash his mouth out, summer heat suddenly stifling. 

“Hargrove, that didn’t look like much,” Emil said, one of his big, rough hands patting gently at Billy’s shoulders and the center of his back. “You okay?”

Billy nodded, spitting onto the asphalt as he stood. He spared Emil an empty smile and clapped him back on the arm, walking back to the Beamer. At least he’d already puked, probably—hopefully wouldn’t happen again. That got harder when he moved under the hood and tugged the pistons out and it was stupid. It was fucking stupid, that just touching Steve’s car was enough to make his head swim. It wasn’t enough, all he wanted to do was—

He wasn’t trying again. He knew what would happen. 

“Last form,” he said quietly, setting a new clipboard in front of Steve where he sat, Steve’s keys in his hand. In lieu of handing them over he set them in the empty seat next to him, knew he’d lose it again if they touched. He didn’t want to know what Steve would do if they did.  
***

Steve sat there, stuffing off-brand skittles into his face and staring at the ceiling, keeping his eyes raised until the burning behind them started to ease. Tapping his foot so hard he probably looked like Billy, and Steve would have to touch his leg to soothe it, to be still. But not anymore.

He winced and sucked the fruity spit out of the skittles, sucking the color off of them until only the white innards were left. They were sort of stale. He wanted to leave. By the time Billy got back he hoped he had himself under control, but he smelled like skittles, and Billy smelled like…sick. It was undeniable, he thought, that smell – he hadn’t smelled like it before. And when Steve’d stolen a few glimpses through the garage window, he’d been gone for a while before he’d seen him under the hood of the Beamer. Steve actually really looked at him then, throwing him a startled look, soft brown eyes wide. He really looked at him then. More than before. Didn’t let his eyes drop like at the door. He blindly picked up the clipboard, idly fiddling with the pen on a string. Billy looked too pale. Too washed out.

“You – you uh…you okay?” The word okay was a goddamn joke, Steve knew. He asked, though he knew he shouldn’t ask, and he knew he should keep his mouth shut, and he knew – he knew that no. No Billy wasn’t okay. The same way Steve wasn’t okay. But he wasn’t sure what else to say. 

And he…he was worried. Like when Max had told him about the state Billy was in, and Steve hadn’t wanted to listen. Couldn’t listen, or think of it, because it was all Steve’s fault. And with the depression and PTSD that Billy’d told him about after meeting with Bea…Bea, who had met with Billy a few times since the breakup and hadn’t told Steve shit – well. It wasn’t fair for him to put all of this on Billy. It was too much, too much, and Steve knew that, but he didn’t know what else to do. 

“I...I can go. I can call someone.” He was just making Billy upset. More than before. “...I’m sorry.”  
***

Billy froze up, just a split second of a thing that had him convinced he’d puke again. The apology burnt longer, harsher than the thank you. It made his fucking head spin, swirling and swirling until it joined the vortex where the rest of his thoughts ended up the past month. He felt crazy. Like he was going fucking crazy. 

He gave Steve a small, dead smile like it was habit. Just the same knee jerk reaction he’d been giving the guys at work, or Susan when she’d question him wanting to go back to the apartment. Flat and thin with nobody home behind it. He scurried out—because that is what he did. Rushed out to the dilapidated break room and had to rip himself out of his coveralls, the material threatening to strangle him, too tight on his neck. He doubled over in a folding chair and didn’t know how long he’d been there before Emil’s boots were in front of him, Emil’s voice telling him to take tomorrow off, to head home early and get some sleep. 

Home. 

Home wasn’t anything. Home was on your own and go away and leave me alone. Home was a coffee table full of unanswered questions. Home was television static and tears sticking to old leather. Home wasn’t anything at all.  
***

Steve couldn’t shake it. He couldn’t shake it all day. He couldn’t shake it when he finally got the BMW home – he hadn’t seen Billy again, not after he tucked tail and ran. Like Steve had scared him. He’d been doing better about not drinking like a fish the last couple weeks – he was trying to be better because the kids kept coming around and he had to work and, well, he couldn’t be sloshed all day apparently. Yeah, apparently that was a thing. 

But when he got home that night after forking out a pretty penny at the auto shop, because apparently insurance didn’t cover that kind of maintenance…go figure…he decided ‘fuck that’ and dug into his dads alcohol cabinet again. Maybe it was a mistake. After seeing Billy like that, so close he could reach out and touch him, close enough that he could see his absolute….panic, well. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to go over so bad. He needed to distract himself. Turn off his brain. Really, in the long run, maybe he should have expected that to not be the result. He wasn’t sure how it happened. He’d told himself NOT to do it. He’d been strong, he thought. He’d been strong for a month. He’d tried to be strong today. 

But then somehow he was scrambling over a porch on the second level, hanging onto the railing like a lifeline before he fell on his back on the deck, wheezing as he rolled around and then hopped up onto his feet. Swaying a little, but like, totally cool. He got to the sliding glass door that Billy had liked so much when they looked at the place, and tried the handle. It slid right open. No wonder it’d been so easy for those guys to plant shit in their house. Steve half tripped over the metal lip of the sliding door as he almost fell into the kitchen, flat on his face, but caught himself on a table chair. Totally cool. It was dark in there.

“Billy!” Steve hissed, like it was a secret. Using the chair as support.  
***

Billy had been curled up on the couch for hours now, not bothering to turn the lights on once it got dark. Steve wasn’t here so he didn’t need to keep them on, didn’t need to touch them at all if he didn’t want to. He hadn’t really stopped crying since he got home but that had become a bit of routine wherever he was, be it the trailer under Susan’s concerned suggestion or here. Home. He was trying to count every tiny speck on the television, catch all of the static. Like he’d tried counting the stucco on the ceiling that night, the last night they’d really touched each other, in the kitchen—

Someone was in it, the kitchen. He didn’t know how he felt about how slowly he reacted, how it took a second for him to be scared. He shot up out of his fetal position and stood, right leg asleep as he propped himself against the armrest. Someone said his name. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, frantically wiping at his face, the fear present now and a million times over. Steve.  
***

“Holy – holy shit, Billy,” Steve perked up at the sight of him, still a little trembly like a newborn fawn, but he got a smile on his face seeing him. Jesus it felt so good to see him. Steve was lugging a backpack around with him, which he’d set on top of the kitchen table. It made a clunk like it had heavy jars in it, or rocks or something. Trying not to think of what they’d done on there last. Or maybe thinking of it too much. 

He’d missed him missed him missed him MISSED him and he was right here and – Steve got a little furrow between his brows, but it was so dark in here that he couldn’t see super great. He leaned over and flicked on the light switch, didn’t like the dark much. He squinted at Billy across the faded daffodil linoleum.

“’re you crying? Don’t cry – don’t cry, I, I figured it out, I figured it out.” He gasped, heading across the kitchen in the over-bright fluorescent light. 

He reached for Billy’s shirt, hungry to touch him, like he’d been starving for the month and was desperate for sustenance. He dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Run away. Run away with me, run away with me, please. Please,” his face broke a little past his inebriated mask, his mouth flinching at the corners like he was about to cry himself, even as the alcohol kept him light enough. Because there was no reason to be sad anymore, no reason. He’d fix it, he’d fix it.

“I, I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it – please, please. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, I can’t do it. Please. C’mon, let’s go. We – we’ve gotta go now. I’ve got...got supplies. Look, look.” He held up a finger and staggered back over to the table and tore open the zipper to reveal several glass jars of...little pickles. And...caviar? Steve gestured at them proudly.  
***

Billy staggered back in a full body flinch, away from Steve’s hands, eyes glued to them for a minute before he let himself look everywhere else. Steve was drunk, more than drunk, he was off his ass wasted and Billy could smell it on him. He was showing him—what? A backpack full of shit he’d thrown in from the pantry when he was drunk? He was talking like everything was okay, like he was happy to see Billy. 

‘I don’t want to see you again. Ever.’ 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, voice stricken with grief, face twisted just the same as Steve turned into a messy blur in front of him. “I did what you said. I left you alone, why are you here?”

He took another step back and his calf hit the coffee table, jarring him. If the fear was sluggish before it was like a livewire now, every little noise setting him on edge. He swiped roughly at his face with an oil slicked arm and stepped to the side of the table, further away from whatever was happening. The mocking, the game Steve felt like playing.  
***

Steve glanced over his shoulder like someone else was standing behind him, like maybe hat-man, but there was nobody there. Just him, swaying a little while he let the backpack fall back to the table. A jar of little baby dill pickles rolled across the table. He took a few steps after Billy, through the awning and back into the living room, glancing around in concern, forehead wrinkling up. Like there were monsters in the shadows. Why did he look so scared? Steve would save them. He knew he’d fucked up but he’d had to, he’d had to. 

“Why…? I, I told you – let’s go. But, we need to hurry, before they know. Before they come. I know you did, I know you did you – you did….good, but I, I fucked up, I…I fucked up, but I couldn’t let you get hurt. I jus’, jus’ wanna make it right. ’m sorry.” Steve took another step forward, an alarmed look passing over his face as Billy hit the coffee table in response. “Wh-wha’s wrong?” He glanced over his shoulder again like an idiot. “Why’re you sscared?”  
***

Billy shook his head, a small, terrible sound caught in his throat. That small feeling again, the one that made him feel about the size of an ant. It was crushing him, reminding him of the shove, of the look of disgust on Steve’s face. He didn’t understand, Hopper was wrong. He couldn’t think. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked, inching further back, thankful Steve had set the heavy backpack down. He’d fight him if he had to—maybe, but. But. “Why are you doing this to me? I don’t wanna play, I just—please stop. Stop, I did what you said.”  
***

Steve blinked, shaking his head a little too, like he was trying to compute what was happening, but his brain sloshed with the movement and he couldn’t seem to add it up. Why didn’t Billy wanna go with him? He’d said sorry. He told him about the bad men. He sent him the coupons. He glanced down at the coffee table – saw the envelopes. Stacked neatly one on top of the other. He’d gotten them. He did. It was like code. It was like talking in code, Steve thought. He turned dark eyes back up to Billy, the light in them starting to go dark. 

“I know – I know it doesn’t, make sssense, but, I’ll explain. I promise. I promise, I’ll explain on the way, just..jus’ please. Please trust me. I should have said that, to begin with. I’m not…I’m not playing. This is for real. Not the dumb…dragons game.” 

Steve tried approaching again, lifting a hand as if to reach out to Billy, his fingers a little unsteady. Like he was reaching for his hand. A pleading gesture. Eyes big.

“I didn’t mean it.” He whispered.  
***

Billy flinched again, almost tripping into the television before he caught himself. He thought he might really throw up again this time. He wanted it so bad, that hand in front of him. But it—scared him too. Scared him in a way he’d never thought he’d feel about Steve, the way only people who’d cut him to pieces were capable of. Little splices of memory, even if they weren’t the same. A military ring in his forehead or his shoulders hitting a bookcase. Being shoved in front of an entire town while crying, telling Steve he loved him, trying to remind him of what they were. 

He didn’t -mean it.- 

“Stop,” he said a little more forcefully, though the rest of him was still, all the way down to his fingertips. Very still, except for another hard swallow. “Stop.”  
***

Steve froze up, going still as Billy stumbled backwards, flinching away from Steve’s touch. He hadn’t been looking like that because there was somebody scary behind Steve. He’d been staring at Steve because he was the scary one. Steve’s brain tripped over that a couple times, and he snapped his hand back, taking an ungraceful step back. Immediately feeling a little more sober just from that. 

Billy was telling him to stop. Stop. Steve’s hands fell to his sides, curling up uneasily at his sides. He knew he’d been a fucking – prick – he knew that. He had. He did. He…he guessed he…he knew he shouldn’t just, expect to waltz in, say ‘sorry’ and ‘run away’ with me and get the reception he expected. Say he didn’t mean it. Not with the look on Billy’s face when he DID say it. Sorries didn’t fix that. They didn’t. 

But…scared? Why was Billy SCARED of him? Steve wasn’t the one that had gun on him, he – Steve blinked. He’d pushed him. He’d pushed him away. If he hadn’t gotten him to stop touching him – already gave him that one warning – he’d never have been able to do it. Never. It made him to weak. He’d needed distance, but he’d still felt fucking terrible about it. Didn’t ever want to lift a finger against Billy. Steve shook his head a little eyes going wide,

“Wait, I…me? You’re…” He had to force the words out. “You’re scared of me? I…” Steve blinked, head rocking back on his neck. He took another step back. Made more distance. “I…man, you...you…beat the shit. Out of me. Last fall? I was…I was concussed for two days. I barely…barely touched you last month. I wouldn’t hurt you. I would never hurt you, I…” 

But he had. Maybe not physically, but he’d hurt Billy. Badly. And he could see that. He could see it. Billy had PTSD. He’d seen that fear in him after his dad had been beating him, for who knows how long. Probably forever. He’d seen it in him after his dad tried to kill him. He’d seen it when his dad had hit him back against the truck. He saw it now.

“I’m sorry.” 

He blinked, glancing away distractedly. Everything twirled. He rubbed his hands anxiously over the thighs of his jeans. Everywhere but at Billy and that frightened look. 

“‘S…’s too late. Huh?”  
***

Billy’s mouth open and closed a few times, that eternal fight or flight feeling warring inside of him. Except he’d gotten a break from it once, for just a little while. Too long, maybe, for people like him. 

“It didn’t—happen—now,” he said through his teeth, jaw wired shut and hands shaking at his sides. It hurt to do and he could practically hear his teeth, his bones creaking in protest, could feel the way it was all building and building and building. 

His cheeks were wet and he had to move some, dig the heel of his hand as hard as he could into his cheek before scraping it along them. He could do that now, nobody was going to stop him. Nobody was going to pull his hand away. 

“It didn’t happen in the last six months. It didn’t happen when we—when I loved you. It didn’t happen after you fucking—I pay to go to Chicago now. You don’t—you don’t—you don’t get to fix something and then fuck with it again.”

***

Goddamn Steve wanted to pull his hand away. SO bad. But he couldn’t, not like this, and he could see Billy ramping up. Getting absolutely fucking pissed off. And he was still crying, and Steve’s whole plan of fixing everything, making it right, of getting them away from the bad men and seeing the waves off the west coast – they all fell away. And Billy was crying, and this wasn’t right, this wasn’t what Steve had envisioned, even if the alcohol had had something to do with it. A lot to do with it. Sober Steve knew the world didn’t work that way. Sober Steve wouldn’t be here in the first place. Sober Steve would know that even in California, they’d find them, and kill them. There was nowhere to run on this earth. And Billy would die anyways. So would Steve. Romeo and Juliet. Scarface. Whatever.

Steve’s face creased and started to crack at the edges. It was too late. Too late, too late, too late, and Billy – Billy said ‘loved.’ Past tense. Steve broke it. He broke it too much. Hell, he’d broken it on purpose. Dropped the fragile thing to the ground and watched it shatter – and what, he wanted to glue it back together now? There were too many pieces, too many cracks. The glue would ooze out between the wounds.

“L...loved?” You don’t love me? Steve shrank back this time under Billy’s tone, his burning blue eyes – it was his turn to turn small. Shoulders hunching up.“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…to fuck with it. With you. I didn’t. I just…wanted you safe. D-didn’t know what else to do.” His face crumpled and he swiped impatiently at his eyes. Billy blurred, just like the paper on the clipboard earlier today. “Just…can...yell at me. Can hit me. Please, anything you need, just..” please still love me.  
***

“Just what? What?” Billy hissed, giving another useless swipe to his face before stepping further back. “You—humiliated me. You—what? You feel bad now?”

His legs weren’t working anymore, not right then, and he fell to his ass on the living room floor. He was seething, skin prickling with shame and pain and things he couldn’t put words to. His eyes fell on the envelopes on the table, Steve’s half of the rent that he just kept fucking sending. He swiped them up, felt them bend and crumple up in his hands. 

“I hate you,” he sobbed, throwing the envelopes in Steve’s direction. “Stop, just—leave me alone. You already fucked me up, you can’t pay for it. Take it, fucking take your money. I hate you, I hate you.”  
***

As twenty dollar bills and clipped coupons fluttered around him with envelopes, Steve froze. He didn’t know what to do. Again. He wanted to touch Billy. To try and help him calm down. Like on Mother’s day, in the tub. Do his ‘Steve thing,’ as Max called it. But this wasn’t grief, and this wasn’t fear, it was anger and it was….it was hatred. It was a month of festering hatred that Steve had caused. And it wasn’t his place anymore. 

He’d been…so determined, from the beginning, not to fuck things up. To never get to the point where Billy fell out of love with him. He didn’t think he’d be able to do it again. Handle getting his heart ripped out of his chest. But he’d ripped Billy’s heart out first. Thinking that, somehow, some stupid…what, what, coupons? Some stupid hokey, hokey thing he’d said forever ago would make some kind of a difference? Keep the flame alive? Fucking yeah right. 

He had his answer - he’d told Billy he’d love him until he didn’t love Steve anymore. Wanted him to go. Steve just didn’t know he’d cause it. He’d ruined it. He’d gone into it knowing…he’d never see Billy again. Never touch him. Never tell him he loved him again. Never hear it back. He’d gone into this knowing, to keep Billy alive. He’d known what he was doing. Now, just on this side of wasted, and a lot closer to horribly, horribly sober, he knew that wasn’t how things worked. He’d made his bed, and he’d have to lie in it too. 

This was actually a step up from last time. It wasn’t just apathy. It wasn’t just no reply. It was the entire opposite of love. It was hate. As Billy started kicking in the television set – throwing the coffee table on it’s side – tearing up some stupid potted plant from when they’d moved in, by the roots, Steve turned to leave. He didn’t say anything. He forgot his backpack on the table. Left the money on purpose. 

He just went straight for the sliding door. -Run away like you always do-. He closed the sliding glass door behind him, feeling outside of his body, blinking away tears to try and clear his vision before he hopped over the side of the railing. Down to where the newly fixed Beamer was parked below.  
***

Billy still took Max to the arcade. There was still one normal thing he did other than going to work, like muscle memory. He didn’t go in anymore, just sat in the car for however long Max felt like playing. Either that or he’d drive to the quarry, stare into it, the bottomless pit he could pretend it was. Like it was him, bottomless too. 

It had been a week since Steve had crawled in through the sliding glass door. A week since he told Steve he hated him and turned the apartment into scorched earth. Six days since he’d stepped on something from the television, something that wasn’t glass or knobs or the wooden legs of it. Something else, small and ominous looking. He’d crushed it and slipped it into his pocket and had been touching it for days, too scared to pull it out to look at it. 

Maybe that’s why he’d let Max convince him to come into the arcade with him. He’d been distracted, only an hour or two since the last time he’d cried into a ripped couch cushion, touching the unknown piece of wiring and metal and fiberglass in his pocket. He was inside now, the flashing lights and sounds of kids cheering or booing snapping him back to the present. 

“Wait, what?” he said, tipping his head up to look at Keith, glancing at Max who looked upset. 

“Yeah, sorry or whatever, man. It’s broken,” Keith said with a shrug, looking at Max for a suspicious amount of time before continuing. “I’ll prove it, come on.”

He tried to ask Max why it was necessary to go look at a fucking broken arcade game but she wasn’t having it, stomping forward in a way that felt—exaggerated, even for her. He let her pull him into some back room and looked around, confusion on his face. 

“There’s nothing here, Mad Max. Wait—is Keith a creep or something? He gonna lock us in here?”  
***

“Well yeah he’s a total creep, did you not notice? But no. Not like that. I owe him twenty bucks though, ‘cause he’s a total leech too.” Max sniffed. “By the way, remind me, I need to borrow twenty bucks.” She flopped down in a seat and gestured to one across from her, some ratty looking office chair with a tear and some stuffing spilling out.

“Have a seat.” She said like she as the Godfather, nodding as she got her skinny fingers braced under her chin. Then she sat forward when he didn’t move, frowning up at him.

“No like – really – sit down? I seriously need to talk to you and apparently, according to some people, this is the safest place in town to do that. Even if it smells like farts. Don’t ask me why. I guess ‘cause literally nobody cares what Keith has to say.”  
***

Billy frowned back at her but sat down slowly, more than suspicious. Jesus it made him feel way older than he was but these kids seriously watched too many fucking movies. He sighed when she didn’t speak at first, just looked over him. Like she was assessing his condition, something he’d seen on her face for the past month. Checking for extra cracks, maybe cataloguing how fucked up he seemed in comparison to her notes or something. Those fucking nerds. 

“Okay. Are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on or are we doing a guessing game?” he asked, digging into his jacket and yanking out a cigarette, lighting it despite the face he could picture Keith making. That one he made like a wind up before bitching.  
***

Max let out a huge sigh at him as she placed the toes of her Vans on the ratty gray carpet with the brightly colored geometric symbols, spinning in the chair from side to side, but never doing a full 360. Just sort of frowning at her brother. He looked so much smaller than she remembered. It seemed even worse now than it was before, somehow. She wished he would eat more – she’d been trying, and her mom had been trying, but he seemed to have about as much of an appetite as Steve apparently. They were both just gonna waste away into nothing.

“Yeah, well yeah duh, obviously I am. That’s why I brought you here. But you have to promise to hear me out. Okay? Like a real promise. Don’t get all huffy and leave. ‘Kay?” She spun the chair just right where she could knock a knee against Billy’s. Like he did with her, sometimes.  
***

Billy regarded Max for a moment, inclined to be impatient and leave until she pointed out that he might do just that. Then her knee touched his own and he knew for some reason that she was serious. It was a gentle affection, casual and important all at once. Maybe the best thing he’d felt in a while, just from one little knee bump. 

“Okay, I promise,” he said, almost tempted to pinky promise. But that was with Steve and—well, there was nothing with Steve anymore. “Shoot.”  
***

Max’s next little breath was more so one of relief as he gave her the go ahead. She even gave him a small smile when he seemed to recognize how super serious she was being, and actually listening to her, which he didn’t always do. It made her feel like more of an equal with him. And she wanted him to know how important he was to her, on the same, level ground. 

“Okay so – so here it is. Now. Now, it’s kind of a lot, so buckle up. I…” She frowned, blowing a fluff of copper hair out of her face. She’d tried to go over this conversation in her head for…well, weeks. Trying to think of what to say. Honestly she was maybe going to let it go…maybe Steve was right. Maybe it was too dangerous. But Lucas had told her. And she was fine. And after what she found out about the new fight Steve and Billy had? It was long past due, this talk. Especially now, with Steve going off and being all…rash. Like he did.

“So. Look. I don’t really know where to start this story. I’ve been worried about you. We all have. And I think it’s wrong you’re in the dark. It doesn’t feel good. I was, too, before Lucas said something. I was in here when he first told me. The stalker. But anyways – I dunno, he didn’t do that great of a job explaining either. Maybe we can start with what you know first, then I can fill in the gaps. What did Steve actually tell you about Hawkins? About how uh, shady it is? Be specific.”  
***

Billy is forced to take pause, blinking rapidly at Max for a plethora of reasons. Her concern was right at the top, as was the implication that someone other than her or Susan were genuinely worried about him. That wasn’t something he’d really considered, definitely not this past month. He’d been too caught up in that vortex of misery, no Steve to remind him of it. Not that Susan and Max hadn’t tried—they had, he just had a hard time receiving it. Didn’t know when he’d ever be good at it. 

Another reason was something he jumped to immediately, had to talk himself down from. Did everyone know why Steve broke up with him except for him? Did everyone know before he did, and had they not said anything? Again, he had to bring himself down from that particular ledge. He had to if there was any hope of actually carrying a conversation. 

“He said that the girl who died in his pool didn’t die from a chemical leak. That the government was behind it, that they’d kept something under wraps and it kind of got away from them,” he said, taking a few drags, exhaling above and away from Max. “That it killed all the pumpkins last fall, that it was why Will went missing. That they’d all been put under gag orders because of it.”

He took another drag, this one slower, eyebrows furrowing as he exhaled. 

“He said—they had ears everywhere. Eyes everywhere.”  
***

“Well…Okay so. Yes to all of that. Did he tell you that’s why I was at Will’s house last fall? That night that you um, came over to their house? A couple days before that, well…I dunno, Billy. A lot of weird stuff was happening. Really weird. And I wanted to tell you about it, all about it, but we weren’t really - getting along? So anyways. It definitely wasn’t a chemical leak, it was totally the government assholes, and they were trying to hide everything. You’re right, they made everybody else sign these documents and everybody acts like it’s all – all life or death or something, I mean, you should have heard Lucas when he was telling me…but…well.” 

She fidgeted with her hands staring down at them as she kept spinning the chair.

“ I didn’t realize, I guess, that it sort of is. Life or death. They’re not just being paranoid about it, it’s seriously a thing. This place is messed up. They were doing a bunch of these experiments – you remember El, or Jane? Like that. Like bad experiments, like on kids. And…and I dunno. Maybe animals? I don’t know – but there were these…these mutated... creatures, last fall, making these cold tunnels under the town. It killed the pumpkins. Steve saved us from them. I’ve never seen anything like it, Billy. The monster things, or Steve. He takes it all really seriously. Protecting the party. Protecting everybody. Protecting you. I mean, you get that, right?” 

She lifted her eyes up to him. “I know you do. Like he acts like it’s his job or something, keeping everybody safe, almost as bad as Hopper. None of it seems real. Like, like watching Alien or something, you know? But it was happening.”

“And – and you’re right. I mean Steve was right. About how they’re always just, watching, listening. Hopper does a routine sweep of their houses for bugs, they look about the size of a quarter, and they’re silver. How freaky is that? But like, these guys…these government guys…they tracked down Nancy and Jonathan at a park once, and it was all of them, when they were gonna try to tell Barb’s parents what happened to her. They threw them in this windowless room and wouldn’t let them out. Threatened Barb’s parents just because they might have been told. They might have killed her parents Billy – just for knowing. Hopper, he’s got some kind of an agreement, where everybody who got involved before – the last couple years – they’re safe. As long as they don’t talk, or apparently ‘fraternize.’ Whatever that means.”  
***

Monsters. Cold tunnels under the town. They might have killed her parents — just for knowing. 

Billy thought back on so many things he hadn’t noticed or maybe hadn’t understood. The way Steve had whispered that night at the quarry, the look on his face and the way it didn’t look much different than when he’d come out of the Funhouse. That night Billy had ushered a wasted Steve into the Beamer to sleep it off, how scared he’d sounded when he’d come back with some pilfered water bottles. The guy with the hat, Billy saying he’d just been some creep hitting on him—’I don’t think that’s what it was.’ 

The black Buick he saw driving away from the pool. The black Buick he saw lingering outside of the auto shop. The coupons in the mail. 

Max said whatever that means, but he knew. He knew what it meant. 

“Like loving someone who’s not involved, or living with them,” Billy said, voice thin, hand digging into his pocket. Instead of holding it out to Max he let it hit the ground between them, eyes nowhere near it, eyes not on anything at all.  
***

Max ogled him like he was out of his mind as she jumped up like something had bit her. 

“Hey! I – I brought you in here so they WEREN’T listening – I thought – I thought you didn’t know! And you brought one in here? Are you NUTS?” 

She knew it looked broken, but who knew? She stomped on it a few times with the heel of her chuck, then snatched the thing up like a poisonous toad before she dropped it into one of the open soda bottles on the desk – probably gone flat a few days ago. Little bubbles trailed along as it sank to the bottom like a little rock. Max wiped her hands on her jeans with a worried look as she glanced back at him. 

“Where’d you even find that? And, and yeah. I guess so. That’s what Steve said they said.”  
***

Billy shrugged at first, not watching as Max moved, no reaction as she destroyed—or maybe just further destroyed the thing. He was too busy thinking, finally thinking the way Hopper had told him to. The problem was he didn’t feel better for knowing, for piecing things together. Yet again he’d waited until Max had to spell it out and it was too late. 

“In the TV, after I kicked it in. It just...fell out,” he said slowly, fighting to keep his face straight and continue talking, though the words were starting to choke him. “I’m—it doesn’t change anything, does it? Knowing doesn’t change anything. That whole first week in the apartment and he wasn’t there. It was like living with a ghost and I just—it—I never know anything until it’s already gone past me.”

***

Max frowned at him as she slouched back into her seat, leaning forward this time, bracing her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. Staring up at him with pale blue eyes, her ginger brows knit together. 

“Shit. Really? The TV? Dustin said that Steve broke his parents TV once because he thought there was something in it, but, there wasn’t really.” Her mouth fell even more. She looked down at her chucks against the grungy geometric carpeting. 

“No…No. It doesn’t change anything. But. I thought you deserved to know. The truth. Because, because what Steve told you was a lie. He was lying. But he was trying to be good by lying. He…Billy, Steve was being followed that first week by these lackeys, and they kept threatening you. He was freaking out. He kept talking to Hopper about it, thought he’d fix it – we all did, but…I dunno. I guess there was only so much he could do. Then at the fair, in the funhouse, one of the guys, Steve said he had a gun on him when he got lost in the mirrors. Like a hitman or something. Said he…Billy, he said he was gonna kill you if Steve didn’t break it off. I don’t know if Steve – really believed it. I don’t know if I did. But…” 

Max bit at her lip, super hard, and looked away, sort of shrinking against herself. Letting the fan of her hair cover her face a little as she drew her knees up to her chest in the chair, rocking back in it as she looked away from him. Recalling everything in detail.

“There was this um. This little red dot. On your back, then on your chest, when you turned. Like in the movies, when somebody has a scope on you. ” She cleared her throat. Swiping at her eyes, sniffling. 

“A real one. They were gonna – do it right there. Because Steve wouldn’t listen. He hadn’t been listening all week. He kept – trying to think of something. But he said you couldn’t run away ‘cause they’d just find you…he kept saying something about, you being still? That he wouldn’t let you be ‘still.’ I’m not sure what – he meant. By that. But he was doing his whole crazy thing. Then, at the fair, well…I dunno. They said it had to be real. He couldn’t just fake it. And like, at first you weren’t really listening, then the dot showed up, and - and Steve got mean. I think – I think I saw that guy from the pool there, too. I didn’t realize it until after, when I thought about it. Like he was listening in to make sure Steve really did it, to, I don’t know? Call off whoever had the gun? It’s like a bad movie. The whole thing. We wouldn’t even pay to see that movie!”  
***

Even if he’d been unable to get the words from that night out of his head, Billy hadn’t replayed it in his mind since it happened. He knew how dangerous it would’ve been and maybe he was thankful for that, for his brain protecting him somewhat in the beginning of the worst month of his life. Now though—it seemed to give up, thought it was high time he ran through it. 

He could see the look of disgust on Steve’s face, the way his lips curled as he snapped at Billy. The look on his face when he’d shoved him. The knowledge now that he would’ve died if Steve hadn’t. If he hadn’t crushed that delicate little thing inside of him he’d be dead. Except he felt dead now, he felt like he was missing a limb. The gravity of everything hit him, not just the hurt of Steve’s words or the worry after he’d pushed him. He realized, maybe for the first time, that he’d never get to touch Steve again. That the last thing he’d ever said to Steve was I hate you. That he’d fall asleep alone for the rest of his life. 

His eyes were wide open but he couldn’t see a thing, jaw clenched tight and his breathing ragged. He’d wake up alone after nightmares now. There would be no every year. No anytime.  
***

Billy was getting one of his scary faces again. Not like the kind last fall – the new kind of scary face she’d learned about. The kind that made him look dead inside, or like he wanted to cry, but the two things conflicted and made him look…scary. She slid out of the seat to tentatively step forward, then threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight from where she bent over. Her cheeks felt wet where she pressed one against his ear, arms twisting up around his neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Billy. It’s so messed up, it’s all so messed up, but I…I’m glad you’re not dead. I couldn’t have done it, me or mom, we…we need you here, with us. I don’t want you to die. I know you don’t have Steve, but…but we need you, too. I need you. We love you, I love you. He did it to make sure you’re safe. And now you are. And maybe, maybe it’ll get easier. It will get easier.”  
***

Billy shook his head at first because it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t get easier, he was sure of it, but at least Max hadn’t said better. He leaned into the embrace—Max was much smaller than even Susan so he tried to balance out, holding her up against him instead of giving her any of his weight. Even if, in theory, she was willing to take it. So was Susan, so was Hopper. It wasn’t the same but it was...something. 

He cried into Max’s favorite hoodie for a minute, doing his best not to wipe his face all over it. After a bit he raised his head and sighed, pain still etched on his features but at least a little more subdued for now. 

“Thanks Max,” he said hoarsely, dragging his palm over his face like it might put it back together. “I’ll—try. For you two.”  
***

“You don’t have to say thanks. You really, really don’t need to thank me.” Max said, frowning, her thoughts flitting to how she’d told Steve to do it – twice. 

But she wasn’t going to tell Billy about her part in things. She thought he might already know, but there was no need poking a sleeping bear. What’s done was done, and if push came to shove, well, she’d do it again. But she didn’t want him to thank her. He just deserved to know the truth. And he deserved to know they needed him, and that Steve had done the right thing, in the end. Max had made sure of it, him and his big bleeding heart. Somebody had to do what needed to be done. Maxine Mayfield was a doer.

She’d hung on to Billy for a while until her knees started to protest, and his tears had started to ease, and she was still sniffling away into his fluffy hair – lacking in it’s usual bit of hairspray. Like he just hadn’t cared to bother with it. She let out a long breath. 

“That isn’t..erm…quite the last of it. There was one more thing that I needed to tell you about – and well, it’s gonna suck too. The whole party voted it wasn’t in anybody’s best interest, but Steve…you know how he gets his mind set on something, and he just won’t let it go?” 

She stood back a little to give Billy some space before she dropped the last bomb of the afternoon, fidgeting a little in her vans and tugging at the drawstring of her hoodie, gazing down at the frayed end like it really interested her. Chewing on her lip, a lot like Billy did sometimes. 

“Well…he’s uh, he’s…leaving. He quit his job at Tape World, and took the job from his dad. I guess he’s moving him out to New York.”  
***

Billy’s stomach plummeted right through him, or at least it felt like it. Hawkins. Completely devoid of Steve Harrington. Devoid of the one thing that had really made it good for him at first, and then for a while after that. Wild brown hair bouncing in the distance, or that ridiculous way he smiled sometimes, mouth wide open and almost innocent. The sight of the Beamer cruising down the main drag. Even seeing Steve for split seconds outside the arcade, avoiding eye contact. Even that—would be gone. 

“When?” he asked, voice a quiet, croaking thing. Like his throat had given up, like everything in him desperately wanted to. “When is he leaving, Max?”

He pictured Steve getting older and settling down like his father wanted him to. He pictured a girl with perfect hair and the right parents next to him, a gaggle of kids and a yuppie house. He’d be happier like that, eventually.  
***

“Two weeks…while his dad gets everything set up. Nobody likes it, I don’t think Steve likes it either, but…I dunno, like, he’s doing it anyway. He hasn’t been acting right. He hasn’t really been acting like Steve.”

She started to wrap a strand of hair around her finger like a red ribbon, before she slowly sat back into her seat. 

“If Dustin couldn’t change his mind, I don’t think…anything can. I don’t know what caused him to make the decision, he even got outvoted, but he said that was ‘bullshit’ and this was ‘real life’ and …well, yeah. Anyways. I thought you should know that, too.” She looked away uneasily, staring over her shoulder at the discarded bottle of Squirt, the little quarter sized bug dead at the bottom. “I guess…I think that’s it, though. Do you – still wanna play some games? I know you probably aren’t in the mood...” He hadn’t been for weeks. She missed her brother.  
***

Billy wasn’t, it turned out, but Max didn’t hold it against him. He was really in the mood to get absolutely shitfaced, the kind where he’d lose time. He needed that because now there was a countdown clock in his mind. Its numbers were large and oppressive, bright red and burnt behind his eyelids. They wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut or pressed his hands into them and he needed them gone. 

In the end he waited a few days, waited until the weekend. He was in the beginning stages of putting Susan at ease about him living alone in the apartment and he knew what had happened the last time he got drunk on a weeknight. He didn’t like the chances of ending up on Joyce Byers’ couch in the morning. So he waited. 

He hadn’t exactly been invited to Tommy’s party but he hadn’t been banned either, so he’d made his way in with—strangely, no protests. Everyone knew that Steve had dumped him and there were girls giving him looks of sexually fueled pity, like it might still be their lucky day now that everyone had graduated. It made him feel a little sick so he’d mostly stuck to the kitchen, funneling red liquid into his mouth that tasted like what he imagined ether would taste like. Dangerous, volatile, and somehow pleasant. 

It wasn’t a difficult thing to get him drunk nowadays. Susan wasn’t kidding when she’d started fussing about his weight—he wasn’t scrawny or anything, but now he wasn’t even close to—

What had Steve said? Soft in places. 

The countdown ticked away again at the thought and he needed air, he needed to get away for a minute. He stumbled out to the side of the house before he thought too hard about it, though there was no chance of pushing it from his mind now. No chance of not sounding soft and mournful now. 

"Steve."


	13. Chapter 13

Steve was leaning against the side of Tommy’s house, in the little ‘alley’ area between the house and the fence where the woodpile was. The one where they’d snuck out through the gate what was now like…months ago. It was strange being back here. Strange being back here, compared to the last time he was in the same spot. But back then, he’d been three sheets to the wind, and Billy freakin’ Hargrove…had saved him, so to speak, and kept him company in his car to make sure he didn’t, like, choke on his tongue or maybe, vomit himself to death or whatever. Billy freakin’ Hargrove – that’s how Steve had thought of it at the time. 

It was strange to think that that was the beginning of everything. When things became more than only vaguely knowing Billy, Billy as the guy that heckled him, pestered him, kept him down, mocked him, but also called him pretty and gave him advice when it suited him while disguising it as anything but. Before Steve had loved him, but he’d still taken care of him all the same. 

And speak of the devil. 

Steve was just letting out a lung-full of smoke, watching the haze of it drift as the cicadas shrilled in the trees, even though it was night. He almost started coughing, choking on the smoke at his name – and the voice attached to it. He glanced over sharply with big brown eyes, looking a little like a spooked deer in headlights on a lonely backroad, about to get hit by a car and have it’s carcass smeared on the asphalt. He stared at Billy, words lodged in his throat, and he tried to keep his hand steady as he drew the Marlboro back to his lips, giving it a harsh drag as his eyes dropped to Billy’s boots. Couldn’t quite look at him, even here. 

“H-“ His voice broke a little, and he coughed again, gaze skittering over the plush emerald grass at Billy’s feet. Tommy’s dad prided himself on a full lawn.“Hey.” He said, super suave as he breathed out smoke. 

‘I hate you.’ The words rattled in his brain, a death rattle really, like they had been on repeat - a broken record - and he swallowed hard and turned his profile to Billy, blinking hard. He should leave. He stood up a little from the siding, as if to make like a tree.  
***

“Hi,” Billy said, tripping and stumbling a little closer, one hand bracing himself on the house when he got close enough. He hiccuped a bit, the kind of noise he would’ve made fun of someone else for making. As it was he didn’t exactly have the high ground on anybody so he showed himself a little grace too. “Max said—said—New York.”

Something somber fell across his face at the thought, the counter bigger and more obnoxious than ever now. He frowned deeply and tried to straighten himself but it was no use, kept him hunching. Steve looked—handsome. He looked a little more like himself, even if it was only by a small margin. 

“Don’ want you to leave Steve.”  
***

Steve wondered how many times Billy had told him ‘Hi.’ He’d always thought it was so cute, the way he said it – people didn’t often just say ‘hi’ usually it was like, hey, or hello, or what’s up, or…or something. Hi just didn’t seem so common. But Billy said hi. And he always sounded cute as hell when he said it. Something hard was forming in Steve’s chest, and his first thought was of cement – like he’d swallowed powdered cement and it was firming up in his lungs, making it hard to breathe, following the tracks of his ribs as it solidified. It fucking hurt. 

Billy was drunk. He was so drunk – Steve could see it, he could tell, it was like their positions out here were reversed, but Steve didn’t think he could exactly take Billy to the car and help him out until he was sober. Couldn’t bring him home like a lost stray kitten. No matter how much he might have wanted to. 

Billy was suddenly so close, too close, close enough Steve could really smell the tang of the punch on him, but other things too – the bite of his hairspray, the spice of his cologne, something minty like – breathspray? Steve’s eyes flicked up on impulse to study Billy, so close to him now, close enough – arm against the siding – that if Steve leaned up, he could kiss him, touch him, get his hands in his hair, give in to all of the urges of his heart he’d been suppressing all month, he could – no. No he couldn’t do that anymore .They were broken up. Billy hated him. It was over. Steve was leaving. 

It would be better that way. For everybody. Another situation like – like at the auto shop wouldn’t happen again, making Billy miserable. Making Steve ache. Or like tonight. Billy drunk enough to clearly forget that Steve was a huge piece of fucking bullshit that caused all of his heartache in the first place – enough to really hate him. Hell, maybe it was for the best. It could help him get over Steve. 

“I…yeah. Yeah, New York.” Steve got that little worry line between his brows as he stared up at Billy. He looked so thin under the moonlight, cheeks almost gaunt. “…I’ve gotta go, my dad, he... I don’t…I don’t want to make things any harder for you, with me being here, like, like the other week.” Not just at the auto shop, but also when Steve got drunk and broke into their apartment like a freakin’ creep. It wasn’t fair to Billy. 

“You, you’re drunk, Billy.” He’d feel differently about it tomorrow. Sober. He’d be glad. He’d remember that Steve was just bullshit, and that Billy hated him. It would be better for both of them. Billy would be safe, and he wouldn’t have to see Steve at the arcade, and...it had to be better than this constant hurt every second that Steve wasn’t on his doorstoop begging him back.  
***

“Uh huh, I am, but—“

Billy couldn’t stop watching Steve’s mouth move, the plush lips that he knew so well. Like the other week. The television was thrown out, the coffee table too. He’d ended up breaking a lot of dishes on the kitchen floor that night, punching his own legs and screaming into the couch cushions. He hadn’t felt like that in so long, months. Except when he’d pushed Hopper around, but it. Wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same anymore. 

“I want—things t’ be hard,” he said, voice a little pleading, hand reaching out for Steve but missing by about a foot and falling to his side. “M’tired n’ I can’t eat n’ I miss you. I don’t hate you, I don’t hate you n’ Max told me. Please. Please just—“  
***

Steve had to clench his hands up tight so that he didn’t reach out to Billy, to grasp him, to steady him, to let him lean against Steve – the cement was making it harder to breathe, and a buzzing had started in his brain. It took Steve a second to realize it was a little like alarm bells. 

M’tired n’ I can’t eat n’ I miss you. 

“I’m sorry. Jesus, I - I’m sorry, but I - I -”

Steve. Steve had done that to him, he’d promised him anytime and every year and Billy had promised him not alone anymore, but Steve was alone – he was, they both were, and Steve had only broken promises. Forced Billy to break his. That’s all they had now. Broken promises and hurt and this suffocating fucking shit in Steve’s lungs making it so he could never breathe again because he wanted, he wanted so bad, he just wanted. Wanted Billy. He was saying…he didn’t hate Steve. He didn’t? and Max – wait what? What? Steve blinked, nostrils flaring. 

“Wait, what? T-told you? Told you what? Max told you what?” She didn’t. She couldn’t have. That was – that was literally what Steve had been, been trying to protect him against. That was what all this heartache was for . Steve trying to fix his mistakes. Putting Billy in danger.  
***

Billy didn’t say anything, mostly because the yard was turning on its side at the moment. Whether it was from the tone of Steve’s voice or the alcohol he didn’t know but he gave himself a second, straightened up finally with some difficulty. He shook his head and that didn’t make his vision much better but he remembered something Jane had said—or rather, done. 

So he lifted his hand and pointed his index and middle finger at Steve’s head, then pressed it into his own chest. He swallowed hard and hoped Steve understood because he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand this close with the sun beam of Steve only inches away, he’d been making himself sick without it. The gun shape was gone in favor of grabbing a clumsy hold on Steve’s jacket and pulling him in, their lips meeting messily on his end and a soft sound of relief eking out.  
***

Steve knew that gesture. Too well. He jolted as Billy pressed the make-believe ‘gun’ against his own chest, a horrible flash of that night sizzling through Steve’s brain like a grease fire. The dancing red dot. Suddenly he could apparently breathe, because his breathing immediately picked up, too fast, too fast, almost to a hyperventilating status as he stared down at Billy. A little wild-eyed, with those eyes that were too-big, too panicked - mindless with it, almost.

He immediately shook his head, a silent, wordless ‘no’, like a plea at the concept, that Billy knew, he knew, more than Steve had said, and now, now? Steve almost took a staggering step back, feeling weak kneed and sick, like he was gonna throw up. He hadn’t even been drinking. But oh god he was definitely going to throw up, bile washing up in the back of his throat, acidic, burning all the way up his esophagus. 

Confusion swamped him as Billy was suddenly pulling him close, smashing their mouths together – tugging him close by his jacket lapels. Steve’s spine arched like a startled cat, stomach lurching, before he was shoving Billy away and immediately throwing up all over the glossy, award winning lawn.  
***

Billy fell into the house—hard. The movement had been a lot more urgent than at the fair, aggressive in a panicked way. He wanted to kiss Steve, wanted everything to kind of get better, to be able to touch him just one more time. He’d been finally kissing him again and then the next moment he was up against the house and Steve was puking on Tommy’s side yard. Like maybe—like maybe Billy had made him feel sick. 

He was climbing over what was probably a fence before he knew it, felt something rip the left knee of his jeans enough to break the skin underneath. It didn’t matter, he just had to go and it was dark so it didn’t matter what he was climbing over or tripping on. Just that he got further and further away, where no one could hear him crying, where maybe he could escape that counter.  
***

Steve glanced up through bleary, tearing eyes at Billy’s retreating back as he made for the back of the yard, jumping the fence, and disappearing into the woods beyond. Steve blanched as his stomach upheaved again and again, on his knees on the grass, ridding it’s contents and he kept trying to stand. He couldn’t quite manage it until he was only dry heaving, nothing but sticky saliva and bile being spit up. 

Finally he could get on his feet again, feeling weak and shivery before he followed in Billy’s footsteps across the damp lawn where the sprinklers had been going closer to the fence. He followed the silver footprints before he was jumping the fence too, wiping at the back of his mouth. He only paused for a second, glancing up at the ominous shadows of the trees, all clustered together like some living things, before he was surging ahead blindly. He squinted through the moonlit woods, a heavy mist making everything out here seem not only dark, but like…hazy. Muddled.

Steve hated the Hawkins woods. Monsters might lurk there. It wasn’t safe in the woods. He had to get Billy out of there – gate closed, or not. He sprinted through the forest, branches and twigs slapping at his face, catching him with tiny scratches and leaves in his hair as he peered wildly between trees. It was so fucking dark in here, and the woods and undergrowth pressed in so close, he almost felt claustrophobic. Like he’d felt in the hall of mirrors. Everything pressing in. The shrill of cicadas sounded like the click of demodogs. Too much like it. 

“Billy!?” Steve shouted, throat ragged and burnt out as he staggered to a standstill, trying to peer through the dark and the mist. Trying not to let fear creep up. He couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him.

***

By the time Billy stopped to catch his breath it was...difficult to see which way he’d come from. Every tree looked exactly the same in the dark, some true kind of darkness. In California there’d been a hint of pollution and industrial lights everywhere, even in the distance, and even the dead of night didn’t really mean dark. Not pitch black like it was here, in—what did Max call it? Mirkwood? 

He caught his breath enough to hear his name being called but he couldn’t face it, not now that he’d already begun to run. So he kept going, weaving through branches and scratching himself on sticker bushes, moving as fast as he could until his foot caught on a root just right. His hand shot out to steady himself and closed on something almost slick, fingers digging in for purchase until whatever was under them completely gave way. 

He screamed instantly, the pain all encompassing as something—splashed against his forearm. It felt like acid and made him grit his teeth in pain, eyes wide and not sure what he was seeing, only that the first layer of skin was gone and the second layer was close behind it.  
***  
Steve went rigid as even more adrenaline surged through him, infused in his bones, when he heard the scream. He knew it was Billy. He knew he was in pain. And he just knew what the cause must be. He’d always known what the cause would be. He followed the sound – his entire body fine tuned to the sound as he tried to silence his own breathing, everything within Steve suddenly honing to a fine point, his fists twisting for something with wood grit and he simply didn’t have. He snatched up a fallen branch in its place- about the same size and heft, wielding it before him like a trusty bat.

Billy didn’t sound far – just a little further, just a little further – Steve’s eyes were starting to adjust, he was able to make out the differences in gnarled tree trunks and surrounding, wild, overgrown bushes and flora, before he was able to make out Billy’s hunched form. Steve immediately hurried forward, searching for the source of attack – and his breath caught in his throat. The vines – like there had been in the upside down – they were…all over. They – the ground slithered under Steve’s Nikes, felt…felt alive. No. He glanced down in shock as he realized he was standing on solid ground cover. Like they’d stumbled into a – a nest. Steve’s chin jerked up as he covered the last amount of distance to Billy pulling him back as he swung at the offending vine with the tree branch, swatting it away with a sick sounding ‘thwap,’ and the thing hemorrhaged some kind of liquid where it’d been severed. Steve tried dragging Billy away, too focused and intent on their surroundings, the vines writhing beneath them. 

“Shit – holy shit – Billy, are you okay? Are you - ?” Steve was searching him for the wound when he saw the cradled arm, the angry looking forearm, mottled and splotchy in the moonlight – fog hanging around their shoulders. 

“We gotta get out of here, now – we need to – “ 

But it was too late. Steve knew it was too late. The second he’d realized they’d stepped into the nest – or whatever the hell this clusterfuck was. The false ground beneath them shifted -–gave a terrible shake – Steve wondered if this was what an earthquake felt like. He tried to ferry Billy to the edge of the vines, before something else reared up. A vine, like a living thing, lifting high and arching up – a flower at the end, closed up like a crocus, suddenly blooming awake at them, petals spread wide, sort of – of rattling, like a rattlesnake, before it was spitting barbs at them from it’s center like poison darts.  
***  
Billy’s eyes got impossibly wider as he watched the—plant. The plant, one that got to a point that it was tall enough to loom right over them. One that opened itself and got more grotesque by the second. One that shot out barbs that hit him in several places; his neck, his shoulder, his chest, his hand. After that the ground felt like it was giving way but he was long gone, hands reaching out and closing on nothing but air. 

When he woke up he was sober, he had to be, but he refused to open his eyes. He couldn’t because everything around him was wrong, something he could sense without needing to see it. The air was acrid, almost ancient and the sounds. Every single sound was inches away and off in the distance all at once, even the sound of the wind menacing. He blindly felt over himself and there were—things, sticking out of him, his fingers brushing his arm and pulling a gut wrenching sound from his throat. Like an animal caught in a trap. 

Steve. 

“Steve?” he whispered, voice hardly audible and shaking, eyes still shut tight in case Steve—wasn’t.  
***

Steve stirred, blinking and glancing over from where he was curled up against a sickly, black, weeping tree trunk, not a foot away from Billy. Close enough to touch. To protect him. He peered down at him, eyes widening as he realized Billy was finally waking up, his fingers twitching and trailing over himself – touching at his arm. Steve flinched at the sound Billy made and reached out as if to stop him, but he still felt kind of sluggish, disconnected, almost. Like he didn’t quite have control over his appendages. He’d been waiting – hoping – praying – that Billy would wake up. Then he could do for him what he’d done for himself. Pulled the barbs out of himself, taken his shirt off from under his jacket, and torn it in half. Tied half of the white cotton around his mouth, and left the other for Billy. 

He’d placed it lightly over his mouth, but he hadn’t tied it or anything. It reminded him eerily of a death shroud when he’d accidentally, with goofy, numb fingers, originally dropped it over Billy’s whole, lax, sleeping face. 

He squinted down at Billy, still feeling kind of stupid with whatever the hell drugs were in those barbs. Billy was whispering at him, voice shaking, and – and Jesus. Jesus, what was he going to think when he opened his eyes? Steve could hardly bear to look around them. He’d heard – he’d heard what the upside down was like. Like the tunnels, but worse, but he’d never actually been here. Not himself. Could cross that off the bucket list, he guessed. 

“Hey – hey it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here – I’m right here. You’re okay.” Steve murmured to him, voice muffled by the shirt, trying to keep it comforting. He reached out to brush soft fingertips across Billy’s forehead, easing a curl away. “Hey, hey now that you’re up, I’m gonna help you – okay? I didn’t want to startle you awake. I need to pull these things out of you, okay? And wrap your arm.”  
***

Billy sobbed in relief at the sound of Steve’s voice but kept his eyes closed, only let himself make the sound for a second longer before he swallowed and stopped. Steve was there, it was fine, they’d—be fine. Steve was touching him, it would be fine. He nodded shakily and realized something was on his face. Not all of it but his mouth, though when he reached up to take it off Steve’s hand was there again, insistent. He just wanted to—

The second his eyes opened he couldn’t close them, thought maybe he’d never close them again. Everything was—dilapidated and grey, that specific, solitary smell of something putrid and sick everywhere. The wind made no sense but it looked like there was a storm and it was already there. The sky was red and black and something was in it, something unfathomably huge. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, it was staring at him, surveying him, and the knowledge of it making every inch of him shake.  
***

Steve could see the red of the sky, and it’s omniscient being in the clouds, as it were, reflected back at him from the depths of Billy’s blue eyes. But they looked more grey – washed out – here in the Upside Down. He read the shock in them, felt the shake shiver over Billy’s entire body, like a brittle fall leaf knocked askew from a branch. 

“Hey, hey – look at me, okay?” Steve said, leaning himself forward more so that he was actually hovering over Billy’s face, a flop of brown hair curling over his forehead – effectively blocking out the sight of the sky. At least until Billy could come to terms with what was happening and not have a total, full on freak out. Steve knew he had when he woke up, and hell, he’d actually known what had happened. 

He couldn’t imagine being in this place – being like Will – with no hope of knowing what on earth was going on or where he was or what this fucked up version of hell must be. It would feel like you had died and gotten sucked straight down. Well – really, they had gotten sucked down. It wasn’t that far fetched to believe the idea of Hell to be very true. Maybe that’s what the Upside Down really was. Hell. It certainly looked like it, demented, twisted, and backwards, the trees around them practically rotting from the inside out, the vines slithering across almost every surface - not far from where Steve had hunkered them down. He’d seen more of those bizarre, sick, sharp looking flowers not far off. He’d avoided those.

Steve gently smiled down at Billy, trying to keep the tremble from his bones out of his smile. Carefully cupped the edge of his sandpaper cheek. “’s okay. We’re gonna be fine. I’ll explain everything, okay? And we’re gonna get out of here. Just look at me, okay?”  
***

“Okay, uh huh,” Billy whispered, throat catching on the last syllable as he swallowed, eyes fixed on Steve’s face and the rest of him completely frozen. “Okay. Okay.”

Steve’s hand on his face for the first time in a month made his eyes well up despite everything, made him quietly gasp. The hand on his good arm shot up and held on tight to make sure it was real, eyes moving over Steve’s face to make sure that was real too. But the thing in the sky was real, this was real. He felt watched and that was real and—Steve said to look at him. Just to look at him. 

“Okay, okay.”  
***

Steve’s throat worked a little, Billy’s skin so warm and alive beneath his palm, so unlike everything else here – cold and dead. He couldn’t believe how cold it was. Will had said…said it was cold. Like being lost outside in January, an Indiana January. But Billy was warm. And real, and alive, and they would be okay because they were in this together – and although it was all of Steve’s fear cumulated from the last few years, being stuck here…though he would never have wished it on Billy…he was glad he was here with him. That he wasn’t alone. 

He wasn’t sure if that made him selfish. Probably. Steve swallowed as Billy’s hand touched his, holding onto it, pressing it more firmly against the side of his face. Steve thought of the way Billy had said he hated him – then he said he didn’t hate him, but…but he’d been drunk. That felt like forever ago, somehow. But he wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure which was real. He withdrew his hand.

“Can you sit up? Don’t look up. Just keep looking at me, and I’m going to pull these things out of you.” Steve edged back a little on his heels, kneeling in the muck of the black goo of the forest floor. First he properly tied the shirt around Billy’s mouth, not just letting it rest there, like a bandana when you were dusting. Giving Billy enough space, he squinted as he tried to do it like ripping out a bandaid. 

“Sorry - sorry for this. It’ll be over in a sec.” He tugged out each barb - they weren’t terribly large, maybe about two inches long, three tops. He threw them on the ground, glistening with blood at the pointed tips, trying to be conscious of the bite of pain it’d cause. 

He blinked then, staring at Billy’s blotchy, burnt arm. “Shit…looks like uh. Looks like an acid burn.” 

Steve leaned closer, trying to get a better look. He could see, in the dim light, lit by flashes of occasional lightning, that the burn was weeping that clear liquid like when you got a burn on the stove. It had to hurt like a bitch. It needed to be covered – especially here. He dug out the last strip that was leftover from his t-shirt, the hem of it, which he’d saved. He had it in his back pocket.

“I saw an acid burn, once – Jamie Thompson, you know her?” He asked, keeping his mouth running to distract Billy as he began to firmly wrap up the injured arm, starting at the wrist. “Well Sophomore year in Chem she was fucking around with the Bunsen burner, showing off for her lab partner - Randy? Y’know, Quarterback Randy - and tipped it. It was so bad. That’s why she never wears shorts anymore, even in summer. He still talks about it, like it’s funny. I hate that guy.”

He furrowed his brow and knotted the white cotton up at the top of Billy’s arm, near the elbow. “I’m sorry, I – I don’t have anything to put on it. Is it okay?”  
***

Billy kept his gaze focused on Steve’s face, kept doing what Steve told him. It helped maybe, though he wasn’t sure. In the corner of his vision he could see things that made no sense at all; a constant, swirling storm off in the distance, a red and black sky, the world that looked like Hawkins but like it had been decaying for ages. Laying dormant for who knew how long, waiting. He listened to Steve’s story and tried not to pay attention to the pain radiating from his arm, from every puncture wound, and noticed Steve was asking him something. 

He nodded instead of speaking at first, still shaking like a leaf, like he was seconds away from disintegrating. His vision swam with tears but—Steve was there. Right in front of him, touching him. 

“O-okay,” he replied, voice soft in case something was...he didn’t know. Listening.  
***

“Okay. Okay.” Steve repeated Billy, and leaned back on his heels again, shoving his hands through his hair as he tried to think. It stood up on end. He glanced up over Billy’s shoulder, past the broken trees – in the direction he thought Tommy’s house was. At least – this version of Tommy’s house. He was trying to think of a course of action – what they should do.

Billy was totally in the dark, lost on this one, and it was up to Steve to get them out. He wished he knew what Max had told him. He placed himself back before Billy, hands resting upon his shoulders as he tried to catch Billy’s washed eyes with his own faded ones. He shivered a little. It was so fucking cold.

“So – so this place. This is what I was telling you about, the thing that wasn’t a chemical spill. They…I know it sounds nuts. I know. But they sort of…opened this rip, in ‘space’ or something, and…it’s supposed to be like another dimension. Like – like you know, in Poltergeist? Like that. And we’re in the closet. The kids call it The Upside Down, because everything’s reverse here, like a mirror, but bad. There are these – these monsters, but, I don’t know if they’re all dead from before. I don’t know if there’s any left, besides these – these vines. But if you see one – if you see one, you’ll know it. They have teeth. A lot of teeth. And no face. We’ve gotta be really, really careful, and I want us to go to the Byers’ house, okay? If anyone will know we’re there…Mrs. Byers will. We’ll probably need to hide there.”  
***

Billy nodded, not sure he was capable of doing much else at the moment. If he tried to talk it just got caught in his throat and made it clear if he attempted it too many times he’d just choke or the air would—he didn’t know what the air might do. It clearly wasn’t safe to breathe if the makeshift handkerchiefs over their mouths said anything. 

He found Steve’s hand and let him ease him up, eyes glued to the horizon once more. Black, grey, red expanse of evil right on top of them, who knew what further up above it. That thing was still looming and he couldn’t conceive just how fucking huge it was. Like something out of a Lovecraft story, immense and unfathomable. Older than he could imagine. His gaze stayed there despite Steve’s attempts to get him to look elsewhere, stayed the whole trek to the Byers house. 

Only it wasn’t, not really. It was some decayed version of it, more run down than the house was in real life. This was real life too and his brain was catching up to that new fact painfully slow. He stopped when Steve did, right in the driveway like that one terrible night. This time they were standing even closer together and their hands were linked, Billy’s grip tight enough to not leave any room for argument.  
***

Steve’d heard enough about how things were in the Upside Down to sort of know what to expect. But it was different, as they emerged from the rotting woods to something that was actually civilized. It wasn’t the raw dilapidation of nature – this was something manmade, a place where he’d been, where he’d felt safe, where there was always a sunny warm glow coming from the windows even if it was a little run down. 

But now, it was more of a shell than anything – a hovel, practically collapsing in on itself. The door was hanging open, broken on it’s hinges, windows broken out by lazily draped vines over the sills. Steve bit at his lip, tightening his hand a little in Billy’s. He knew Billy was holding on as if Steve would draw back – maybe, in the real world, he would have. But not here. He needed Billy’s hand just as much as Billy needed his. 

This place was the true stuff of nightmares.

Steve tried to follow his own advice – he tried not to look at the sky, even as Billy remained transfixed. He knew he would have some kind of a freak out if he did – and he was trying his damndest to be strong for Billy. He needed to be the strong one now. He guided Billy towards the house, swallowing hard as they breached the front stoop. He hated that this was the last place he’d been in contact with the demogorgon. He kept waiting to hear the clicks of the dogs, or that bloodcurdling sound the one on two legs made. But mostly it was quiet – just slithering vines and bright flashes of those jagged flowers here and there. Sometimes a roll of thunder from the clouds, distant though. 

Steve guided them slowly, hand in hand, something ominous and heavy settling over them as they got out from under the sky. Their breath fogging in front of their faces like winter. It smelled like mildew, and cold, and rotting meat. Steve swallowed hard and glanced around. He didn’t know how to make this work. He saw a lamp, thrown on it’s side by the sofa – which, in the real world, he knew was standing upright with an oval, tan shade. 

The body of it was shaped like Jeannie’s lamp on I dream of Jeannie. He headed towards it, crunching over broken glass and grey mold. Grey like everything else here. It felt like being in a black and white movie, shaded with tones of blue, stained with the red of blood in the sky. He nudged at the lamp with the toe of his Nike, as if he expected it to do something. Flicker. Anything.  
***

Billy dislodged his hand from Steve’s after a moment of watching him give the lamp a few more futile bumps, leaving him there to move. He found himself drawn to the kitchen, though he wasn’t fixed on the angry sky outside this time. No, this time he stared at the sink. He remembered leaning against it and laughing once with blood on his teeth, how he’d felt alive then despite the ache in his chest, the memory of his bookshelf against his shoulders and a hand across his face. 

Now he was looking at the faucet in particular—he hadn’t exactly been taking care of himself the last month, he knew that. If he’d been home, if he hadn’t been here he would’ve been gulping down water after a wild night of drinking. His hand twisted the right knob and then the left but nothing happened, nothing at all, his hand retreating and eyes finally moving to the sky. 

He’d kissed Steve, told him not to go. Steve had thrown up immediately after. Not that it mattered now, things like that didn’t seem to in the face of whatever was happening. Still, his mind wandered over the recent memory, throat swallowing against nothing at all.  
***

Steve flinched when he realized Billy wasn’t behind him – they needed to stay together. Like when you got lost in the woods, you stayed together. 

“Billy?” Steve hissed into the cavernous living room, some kind of black slime dripping steadily from a hole in the ceiling. His heart stuttered in his chest, but he told himself it was fine – he was probably just, just looking for…for…something. He hurried into the hallway, then paused, catching sight of Billy in the kitchen. His heart rate stumbled a little in it’s gallop, before he pressed a hand against the back of his neck, palm damp with icy sweat, and wandered in behind Billy. He almost looked like he was gazing out the window, but at what, Steve didn’t know – the Mind Flayer?

“Hey – are you – did you find anything?” Steve winced, trying not to ask the words ‘okay.’ Of course he wasn’t okay. Neither of them were. “We should um. Probably stay together.” He added, trying to calm his heartbeat. He wondered what the word ‘together’ sounded like.  
***

“No water,” Billy said in answer, eyes still drawn to the sky. It was like no matter where he looked that thing was in the same position. Leaning over the whole world, like it was surveying its kingdom. He swallowed again at the thought of water, hand blindly reaching out for Steve’s. 

When his fingers closed on Steve his grip was tight and desperate even if the rest of him was—tired, weak. Two things he’d been all month, like somebody had cut his strings, turned all the lights off. Max would’ve called that a scary face but he made it all the time now. It seemed almost fitting here, a world full of grey and sick and old. But Steve, at least he had Steve’s hand.  
***

Steve took his hand readily, hoping he didn’t notice how sweat slick and clammy his hand was. Billy’s hand seemed dry, but with force behind it, like he was holding on by the bones. Steve stepped forward to try and get a better look at him from where he was gazing out the window – those easily panicked brown eyes flicking out the half broken out panes once at the black vision reigning in the sky. The…thing that had possessed Will. More dangerous, in many ways, than the monsters with all the rows of teeth. Steve got his eyes on Billy instead – Billy, Billy, his Billy – well, not his Billy anymore. A little line creased over Steve’s brow at the look on Billy’s face, this almost hollow, aching look, an empty look, this hopeless thing. 

“No water – no water is okay, we’ll…we’ll figure something out. Will made it in here a week. We’ll be alright.” Steve murmured, trying to sound hopeful in place of the lack of it in Billy’s face. “I know you’re…probably thirsty. Me too. My mouth still tastes like – like you know.” He made a bit of a face. “Jesus I….” 

He glanced down at his Nikes on the gross, worn away linoleum. Patches of cracked cement showed through. He thought of when he’d been about to throw up, out there on the lawn…he didn’t know if Billy remembered, what he remembered, because he’d been drunk. “I didn’t know Max told you. And when you - I’m sorry I almost threw up all over you. I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore, here, but…do you remember…” Do you remember trying to kiss me? Do you remember saying you don’t hate me? Is that true? It should probably seem trivial in here. It should be. It shouldn’t matter. It was too late.  
***

“I know about the red dot,” Billy said after a tense minute or two of silence. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer, more that he couldn’t. This place made him feel slow or maybe he’d felt like that before they fell into it. He’d been drunk so he didn’t really know. “I know why you did it. Max said that it wasn’t fair, me not knowing. Bribed Keith and told me back there.”

He took another minute to stare outside, listening for anything, some sign of the things Steve and Max had described but there wasn’t anything. Nothing but the sound of a storm and the sound of plants...moving. Not in the way something with legs might, but the sound of something...growing. Stretching out. He turned to look at Steve and guessed he wasn’t surprised when his eyes welled up, when his grip got impossibly tighter. 

“I could never hate you.”  
***

Something swelled up in Steve’s throat, made it feel like he was choking – and when Billy glanced at him, he bit at his lip at the tears he found there – similar ones pricking at the backs of his own eyes, making his nose tingle, making it sting. Steve blinked rapidly back at him. He’d had a repeat, like a mantra, of ‘I hate you’ in his mind for the last week. Nipping at his heels to get out of Hawkins, to leave Billy alone, the way he’d promised he would if Billy stopped loving him. But he didn’t – said he could never. Steve’s lashes fluttered faintly as he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, eyes a little glassy in the poor light. 

“You know…why…I..” A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumped as his mouth hung a little ajar, like he couldn’t quite remember how to close it as he tore his eyes away from Billy’s, searching the floor for his words. “I…I did. It’s why. And it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t, but I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t. They would’ve…” He shook his head, blinking just once but keeping his eyes closed – long enough to let a single tear fall. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for dragging you into this. Sorry for doing that to you. But you don’t...don’t hate me? I’d understand. You could. You should.”  
***

Billy wanted to tell him that no, he couldn’t, that he never would. That he’d hated what had happened to him, what it turned him into. Sickly and quiet and not himself, in agony all the time. But it hadn’t been a choice, not really, not up to Steve. He knew what he would’ve done, if it were him. He would’ve torn Steve to shreds if it meant him alive. 

Instead he moved closer because Steve’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see Billy shaking his head. He made it clearer by setting his chin on Steve’s shoulder, hand still in his, shaking his head that way now. So Steve could feel it without having to look, if that’s how he needed to hear it. He should’ve expected his own reaction to the embrace, one sided as it was currently, but his crying took him by surprise.  
***

Steve’s entire face flinched as Billy lay his chin along Steve’s shoulder, shaking his head ‘no’ – even as Steve kept his eyes closed, as if he’d been afraid of the reply. His fingers convulsed once in Billy’s hand, twisting them tighter, and he was suddenly so aware of Billy’s other arm wrapping around him in an embrace. Steve’s left arm immediately curled around Billy’s back, clutching at the jut of his right shoulder blade, like an anchor grounding him. A touch he’d desperately needed as a few more silent tears slid down his cheeks and something that had felt like a dam, building up pressure in his chest, finally broke loose. 

Billy was suddenly up against him, warm and rough and sharper than before – with points that Steve didn’t remember, more angles. Steve pressed his chest up against Billy’s, lungs puffing away fast like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening – here of all places. But he had Billy in his arms – he was there – Steve was murmuring into those golden curls, slick with upside down goo from when they’d been on the ground before. Nosing against his ear through the fabric with something like desperation for as much contact as he could get. Clutching at Billy’s back, a little sob breaking out of his throat.

“I’m sorry, god I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I mi – “

“….Steve? …Billy.” The words came slow. Like through mud. Steve shocked so badly out of Billy’s arms he almost fell on his ass, half catching himself and hanging onto Billy’s hand as he swung around wildy. Eyes snapping open again, round as coins and blinking tears away, searching for – for – Will. Holy fucking SHIT.

“Holy fucking SHIT.” Steve gasped, voice ragged with tears. “Will. WILL. OH my god, Will? Can you – you can see us. You can SEE US.” He gestured wildly at him, trying to order his thoughts, but still grasping at Billy’s hand with the other.

Little Will Byers was standing there, looking as normal as ever, holding what looked like a casserole dish with two pot holders, which he was in danger of dropping. He stared at them in absolute shock, so pale his eyes looked black in his face. He was trembling.

“What’re – what’re you guys doing here?” Will whispered. “The lights…the lights are going crazy. I thought I’d…check….” Those wide, panicked eyes jerked up to the window at their backs - staring at what lay beyond.  
***

“We—fell, the ground just—gave out,” Billy said hoarsely, some uncomfortable mix of joy and despair swirling around inside of him. “There are vines in the forest, flowers that—spit things. I broke one open and my arm…”

He looked down at his arm, the one not attached to Steve in a death grip. It still hurt, a miserable ache that didn’t seem to fade. Then he looked at Steve to try and make it go away, eyes still full of tears. He sniffed harshly for breath but the air wasn’t forgiving, weighing him down more every second. 

***

“In the woods behind Tommy H.’s house.” Steve added on – that was important, where it was. 

“But the gate’s closed – it can’t be possible, they said it couldn’t happen – “ Will started, eyes huge, voice starting to shake, too.

“I dunno, I think – it almost seemed like a sinkhole. I think it was from one of the tunnels, Will. You’ve gotta, you’ve gotta tell your mom, tell Hop – tell El - “

Will’s gaze was still locked on the window, like he was mesmerized.

“Will?” Steve glanced over his shoulder at the window. The Mind Flayer was shifting in the sky – was it him, or did it seem closer all of a sudden? “Shit – shit, Will, you gotta go. Tell them, okay? Please, please tell them – “

“Yeah, I – I, I can’t stay, I’m sorry – I can’t – it’ll…he knows I’m here. You need to hide. You guys need to hide. Run. Maybe – maybe try the lab. See if there’s an opening there again to get back through? But just…hide. I’ll tell them. We’ll come and get you.”

And Will was gone. Just like that. Like a mirage shimmering out of existence when you got too close.  
***

Billy was turned away, he’d turned around before Will had even faded from sight. He still held Steve’s hand but his arm was twisted as he faced the other direction. He was staring, couldn’t stop staring because it was so close now. It didn’t have a face, didn’t have eyes but he knew it was looking at him. Right at him. 

His twisted arm started to shake hard enough it was almost like he was shaking Steve’s hand, then it moved onto the rest of his body. More acrid than fear, it was terror. He’d felt it before but not like this. Even Neil aiming to kill him didn’t scare him as much as this did, that unseeing face creeping closer in the sky. 

“Steve,” he whispered, not unlike he’d sounded when he woke up. Like maybe if he spoke any louder something might happen, something terrible and impossible to even imagine. “Steve.”  
***

Steve jerked his face over his shoulder at Billy insistently tugging at his arm, whispering his name – this hoarse, terrible sound on his tongue – almost sick with fear. Steve’s nostrils flared wide, his eyelids snapping up in horror as he saw how close it was – Will’s words seemed to echo on the air. Hide. Run. 

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod – “ Steve breathed, something dizzy, this primal fear, washing through him, making adrenaline surge through his veins. It was one thing having Will describe the thing, tell him about it, what it looked like, what it felt like, how it had been everywhere, everywhere, but it was another thing entirely to see something that…that gargantuan, the size of a god, coming towards them like a tornado. Set to destroy anything in its path. Them. 

He turned towards Billy, twisting him to face him by one shoulder, still hanging on tight to his hand. He stared him in the eye, trying to will him to listen, even as panic shook Steve's voice.

“No matter what happens, don’t let go of my hand. We’re going to run. Don’t let go.” 

The next second, it felt like, they were running through the back door - past the shed, no, almost past the shed. Steve snatched the old axe of Joyce Byer’s from where it was leaning haphazardly against the side, rusted at the blade, before he kept going. Not letting go of Billy’s hand for a second. They rushed through the forest in a blinding haze of black, sagging branches dripping ooze, vines that seemed to reach up and try to trip them. Flowers spitting darts at them that always seemed to barely miss. Steve dragging Billy behind him, linked by desperate hands in a maddening race. He almost missed it, blended into the dreary scenery. Almost. But it was still there. Castle Byers.  
***

ALL FRIENDS WELCOME. 

HOME OF WILL THE WISE. 

Billy let himself be dragged into the little fort, still shaking just as hard but at least able to sit down now. His head—hurt. A low level pain kind of like a hangover but different, like a needle digging into him just enough to affect him, disorient him. His free hand pressed against his forehead and more tears swam in his vision, a soft sound of discomfort leaving his mouth. 

“It gonna—be safe here?” he managed, trying to ride the pain out because it didn’t seem like the kind that lasted. It wasn’t the onset of something, it was the result only he didn’t know what of. “Steve.”  
***

As Billy got himself sitting, shaking like a cornered animal, Steve kept standing in the tiny little space – shoving his hands into his hair like before and pacing – just two steps forward, two steps back. There wasn’t far to go. There was nothing but a flimsy sheet between them and the world. His eyes kept searching the walls, and his heart was pounding away in his throat, in his temples, drowning out sound in both ears. Partially from fear, partially from their mad dash through the woods. 

He dropped down in front of Billy, grasping both of his hands at his name – he looked like he was in pain, and Steve thought it was his arm, so he tried to be gentle as he held onto him, but he knew his fingers had gone rigid. Trembling, badly. He shook his head, bowing it as he tried to form words, still breathing too hard. 

“I – I don’t know. I don’t know, I’ve never – I’ve never been here before. I don’t know. I never wanted to be. Never. But…but Will, Will hid in here for a while. He was safe here until…until he wasn’t.”  
***

Billy had left it at that—for hours. They’d tried to talk a little but it was difficult, it didn’t come easy. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to ask Steve what he’d been about to say before Will appeared. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to hold on again, bury his face in Steve’s shoulder and lose himself there. Steve didn’t stop moving until it turned to whatever this place’s version of night was. 

By then Billy had taken to laying down instead of sitting, curled in on himself in a tight ball. With only a t-shirt and shorts that didn’t leave a whole ton to the imagination he was fucking freezing. More than that though he was exhausted, face twisted in discomfort as he squeezed his eyes shut. Like it might keep him blind to the feelings he was having, all that love and despair mixed into something caustic in his belly.  
***

When night fell – at least, Steve thought it was night – that was when the breath that had fogged before their faces really began to make more of an appearance. Not just wispy little things, but like breathing out clouds. Steve felt fidgety. Kept moving. He guessed it kept his blood moving a little, and every so often he’d flick the sheet to the side to glance outside - but nothing ever changed. Somehow, against all odds, they’d beaten the Mind Flayer here. It hadn’t caught them. 

But that had been hours ago. Since then, the tension in the little fort hadn’t really dissipated. If anything, Steve thought it had mounted – into an almost uncomfortable silence. Billy was curled up on the makeshift mattress on the ground, next to the nightstand Will must have hauled all the way back here. Faded, stained, mirror-verse versions of his drawings on the walls. When Billy started to shake with the cold – once the temperature started to really drop – Steve knelt down by him. 

“Hey – let’s get the blanket on you, huh? I’m gonna keep watch.” He eased the red paisely blanket out from beneath Billy to drape it over him instead. Like everything else here, it was moth bitten and had some questionable spots, but it was one of the cleaner things. The mattress underneath, too. Steve wasn’t wearing much more than Billy – but he also didn’t think he’d lost as much weight as Billy. Steve hadn’t been eating much either, but then, he’d also had the kids showing up at all hours and Dustin was stuffing Steve’s face full of junk food and fast food to keep him fattened up, he guessed. Because he needed ‘sustenance’ and ‘stamina.’

Steve was in a pair of jean shorts and no t-shirt, just his grey Members Only jacket thrown on over his chest, zipped up. It was a flimsy jacket, not particularly meant for any kind of real weather. Steve undid it all the same, shrugging out of it to go bare chested. Extending it to Billy. “Here - put this on.” He tried to suppress a shiver of his own, working to keep his teeth from chattering. Clenching his jaw, gooseflesh washing over his arms and chest.  
***

Billy looked up at Steve and shook his head, pushing the jacket back into Steve’s chest. It was too much to ask and it wouldn’t do any good for Steve to freeze. Besides, his shaking wasn’t entirely from the cold. The nonexistent eyes in the sky took up most of his thoughts and wound themselves around him. The idea of having to be under its watch without Steve—

“Lay down?” he asked, pushing the jacket further into Steve’s chest. When his fingertips brushed Steve’s skin his eyes welled up again but he hoped Steve wouldn’t ask. “Please?”  
***

Steve chewed at the inside of his cheek and glanced back at the door – the sheet fluttering in some unfelt breeze. He knew he should really keep watch. He knew what would happen if he lay down. He was exhausted – he knew they both were. If anything, it would be wise to sleep in shifts. But…but Billy was saying ‘please.’ And fuck, it really was cold. He kept thinking of like, in movies or tv shows where they were in the Antarctic or something, or maybe they got stuck in a snowstorm in a cabin in the woods, and they had to share body heat. Usually without clothes, though that was implied. He guessed it was better than Luke having to gut that Tauntaun, and….his thoughts were spiraling. 

Steve couldn’t say no to Billy. Never could. Not really. Especially not with tears in his eyes.

“If you put on the jacket, I will.” 

Steve murmured back, reaching up to grasp at where Billy’s hands were pressing the jacket back into Steve’s chest - a shock of electricity zinging wherever they touched.  
***

Billy sighed through his nose and took the jacket, slipping his arms through and zipping it all the way up despite the ache of his burn as he crooked his elbow. He grimaced and reached for Steve next, trying to ease him down in front of him. Something sharp twisted in his chest when it seemed to take Steve longer than he thought it would for him to do it. It—wasn’t the time though. 

He stared right at Steve once they were facing each other, hands landing on his chest before settling up against his own instead. Steve was sorry, he knew that now, really knew it. But he knew nothing else. Nothing at all. His face broke for a moment before he turned around, dragging one of Steve’s arms with him. 

It made it a little easier to squeeze his eyes shut then, easier to feign sleep until it came.  
***

Steve’s heart had twisted in his chest as he’d stared into Billy’s eyes – so close to him, close enough to bump noses, close enough to kiss, if not for the makeshift ‘bandanas.’ Close enough for a lot of things. In a way, he was thankful when Billy turned, so Steve didn’t have to look him in the eye. 

When he turned, but dragged Steve’s arm with him, draping it over his side. Steve tensed up a little behind him, at first. But he could feel the temperature dropping by the second. He dragged the blanket the rest of the way up over them, covering them properly, up to their shoulders. Then he tucked his arm back around Billy’s ribs, his hand splaying over the flat – too flat – of Billy’s stomach. Drawing himself up to curve along Billy’s spine, pressing his forehead against the back of sticky, golden curls. 

He was reminded of a million times they’d lain like this – Billy the little spoon, Steve the big spoon. He’d missed it more than he’d known. It was easy to hide it under the guise of sharing body heat. Easy to pretend, in some ways, that it wasn’t more than that. But Steve knew it was. He thought Billy might, too. Surely he must. But…they were still broken up. 

Nothing had changed. Just the circumstances where they found themselves – not the relationship. Even if Steve ached to set it right – but what if they were saved tomorrow? They’d be back home, a little worse for wear, but would anything have changed? Would the government lackeys back off, considering Billy had been inside of their little screw up - the Upside Down – now, too? How was Steve to know? And if not, if nothing changed…if he did something here…something he shouldn’t…fixed things…it would only make it worse, coming out of things with Billy’s hopes up and Steve still had to go to New York. 

It would be a month down the drain. They’d be starting back at square one of heartache. Both of them. And Steve couldn’t do it to Billy. Not again. He loved him too much to cause more pain.

But also, he was thinking – he was thinking so much about…about what if they didn’t get out. What if they died here. What then? What then? Would they die like this, not together? Not telling each other if they loved one another? He knew Billy didn’t hate him…he’d said so, earlier…said he could never. 

But…did he still love him? Steve would always love Billy, he thought. Even when they weren’t together. Even when they were apart. He knew he’d said that he would love him only unless Billy wanted him to stop, if Billy stopped loving him. But either way…no matter what he said…even in the case of that happening, there would always be some secret part of Steve’s heart that would always love him. 

When Billy went soft with sleep, Steve kept his eyes open, kept himself awake. He hugged Billy closer. Holding him near, keeping him warm, keeping him safe. He nosed into the curls at the base of his neck, at the collar of his own jacket, through the fabric over his mouth. With Billy’s breath heavy and slow with sleep, he murmured, ‘I love you, Billy,’ into his ear, before he, too, finally sank into sleep.  
***

Billy had the best dream, so perfect and so realistic that he had no thoughts to question it, not even one. He was in Will’s fort with Steve after a long day at the pool. There hadn’t been any creeps around, just them and the kids. Max had been happy all day and so had Steve, happy and smiling like always. He’d gotten a little sun drunk and told Billy they should take a nap so they did, curled gently around each other. Steve was nosing at the hot spot below his ear, whispering I love you, Billy, I love you—

He woke up coughing. He wouldn’t call it coughing really because it felt more like he was rattling his lungs, like they were limp punching bags. Something sharp was starting to make a home in them and all he could do was cough and curl up tighter—Steve’s body draped warm and perfect over his and moved each time. He tried desperately to keep dreaming, to hold on to Steve loving him but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t what happened. 

Just a dream.  
***

Steve blinked awake blearily at the sound of coughing, at Billy’s body lurching beneath his own – somehow, in the night, their positions had changed. Steve was against Billy’s chest, his leg tucked over both of Billy’s thighs, cheek pressed against Billy’s chest, leaving a small spot of drool against his own jacket. In that hazy area half between sleep and awake, but mostly sleep, where dreams were still alive and Steve wasn’t in the Upside Down, and he and Billy weren’t broken up – where the last month had all been a forgotten bad dream, he hummed sleepily at Billy. 

“You okay, babe?” He mumbled. “catchin’ cold?” He pressed a messy kiss, masked by the fabric over his mouth, against Billy’s throat, before he curled up into his neck more securely, lashes falling shut as he made a drowsy sound into Billy’s skin. “’m make you summa Auntie’s tea…..”  
***

Billy’s coughing stopped almost in time for the tears in his eyes to be caused by it, but he knew that wasn’t the case. That sharp pain wasn’t just in his lungs, no, it was everywhere. This perfect moment in a place filled with death and decay and things he’d never seen before and he wanted. So bad it made everything in him ache, a sob caught in his throat because he could pretend for right now, he could just keep it going. Let Steve kiss his neck through the ripped shirt over his lips and hear him use endearments. He could but...Steve was clear. 

More than. 

“Steve,” he said, moving his hands to ease Steve’s head up, giving him a gentle shake. “You’re...dreaming, Steve.”  
***

Where Steve’s head was lifted, his shoulders given a mild shake, he made a face at being disturbed from where it was comfortable and warm – why was he shaking him – cracking one eye open with a disgruntled frown. 

“If you…need the tea now, ‘s fine, ‘m up, ‘m up... I can make it…now…I…huh? Whu?” His brows knit together – reaching up to touch at his face in confusion, like he had – the sheet was somehow stuck to his face, it…what….dreaming? He caught sight of Billy’s face, the flash of tearshine in his eyes – a wash of pain over his face, and then out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw the drift of stuff in the air, that stuff that had been in the tunnels – pollen, or, or ash, or – the stuff he saw in his nightmares. Dreaming.

Steve jerked wide awake, eyes snapping fully open as he pushed himself off of Billy, glancing around, breathing hard and trying to remember – where, what? They were…oh..oh. It hadn’t been a nightmare. It was real. Steve sagged back down onto the mattress from where he’d gotten to his knees, his shoulders sinking. The blanket was askew, and he shivered in the sudden bite of the air. Fuck it was cold. He frowned, rubbing over his upper arms with both hands as he sank back down next to Billy. He mindlessly pulled the blanket back over the other boy’s lap. 

“I…shit, I’m sorry. I…I forgot. You’d think this would be the nightmare, you know? Being in this place. Usually that’s my nightmare. Are, are you okay?” Steve’s brows flinched. “Why’re you crying?”  
***

Billy shrugged half heartedly, mortified to have been caught out but too tired to do much about it. He unzipped the jacket with unsteady hands, pausing to hiss in pain as the sleeve ran over his bandaged arm. Then he thrust it into Steve’s chest like the day before, only he thought Steve might actually take it this time. Anything to just keep moving, to ignore whatever his face was doing. 

“I’m fine,” he managed, pushing himself up to a sitting position even if it seemed like the hardest fucking thing in the world to do. “I’m okay, I—“

He didn’t get a chance to make some flimsy excuse because he was wracked by another round of coughing. He wished he could somehow tell his body that it was totally fucking futile, that nothing was even coming up, but it just kept pushing him to cough. Until he was doubled over, one hand shooting to the mattress to steady himself, the sound turning into something more like a bark.  
***

After he’d thrown his jacket back on, Steve’s eyes flew even wider in alarm – leaning over Billy as he tried to get a hand on his shoulder, trying to help brace him as he bent over double, body spasming as each cough wracked his body. 

Steve winced each time he coughed, looking around helplessly a few times like somehow there might be some way, or some one, to help. But there wasn’t. It was just them. Usually, Steve would get him a cup of water. But they didn’t even have that. He tried rubbing over Billy’s back in long, sweeping motions.

“God…god Billy, Billy – t-try to breathe, try to breathe. The air – fuck, the air is toxic here. Can you breathe? I – “ He didn’t know how to help. He had no idea. He was dead in the water. Steve’s throat gave an aching, burning reminder that there was no water. The back of his throat felt like the freaking Sahara desert, and Billy’s must be the same. 

“We need to get you water. You need water.”  
***

Billy nodded at the question through a set of coughs so hard he gagged a bit, so thankful for the soothing hand on his back that he was able to ignore the sting that came with it. He gasped for air and got a few mouthfuls, enough that he could straighten up to a seated position. Then he thought water, tried to get his brain to turn its gears despite how sluggish it seemed to move. 

“The lab?” he asked, voice raspier than it had been last night. It did not escape his notice, not at all. “Will said the lab, right? Maybe—there? You think?”

He made himself stand as though he was seconds from bolting out of those rotten, tattered curtains when he ran into a problem. His blood sugar had been abysmally low the past month but something about this place drained him twice as quick. He nearly cracked his head on a piece of wood but kept himself standing from sheer force of will, hunger gnawing at him fiercer and fiercer every second. 

“Let’s go. We should go.”  
***

Steve raised himself up more slowly, his hands flinching towards Billy as if to try and catch him if he fell, but he seemed to catch himself just fine. Steve withdrew his hands, anxiously zipping up the front of his jacket as he glanced back at the bed, and around the surrounding pine sapling walls. His stomach gave an unhappy gurgle, growling at him that it was time for breakfast, and well past dinner and lunch from yesterday. As he stood, he was starting to feel a little shaky, and he realized that his nose was starting to run. He wiped at it with his sleeve, since there was nothing better. 

“Yeah, he said the lab. That’s where the original tear was, or closet, whatever, like Poltergeist. They called it a ‘gate.’ But it got sealed up last year, you know, that night when we…when we fought.” He joined Billy as they headed out of the relative, fragile safety of the fort. Steve glanced back forlornly at the welcome sign from Will – like a message from the other side in this demented, scary place. The flag lay dead above them. He tried to make his brain work, to think, of the lab and what he’d learned about it over the last couple years. “I…if I remember right, Hop said…something about how they were sending guys in there. Running tests and stuff. Maybe they left some kind of supplies for them? That haven’t rotted by now. Maybe a first aid kit. I could look at your arm again.” 

Based on the sound Billy had made when he’d pulled the jacket off earlier, Steve didn’t feel hopeful, but he also felt just as helpless. No bandaging, he’d already used up his shirt, nothing to clean it or sterilize it with. Not even water. His first fear was infection. And that cough...it sounded bad. Really bad. Dying in here might be more likely than he’d feared, and they hadn’t even seen any monsters. Starvation? Dehydration? Infection? Asphyxiation? Take your pick.  
***

Billy hummed almost indifferently, looking down at the aforementioned arm. There wasn’t really a way to tell time down here but he knew he needed to have put it under cold water a long time ago. The bandage was better than nothing though. The hunger was kind of fucking with him probably, but his first thought when Steve said he’d look at it again was yeah right. 

Steve took the lead after a while so Billy elected to follow aside him, watched as the scenery became familiar and completely alien at the same time. They were on the train tracks that might’ve lead through Mirkwood but he couldn’t be sure and honestly—honestly, he was in too much pain to really care either way. His head was killing him and he was starving, his arm an open sore covered only by a thin, torn shirt. He felt weak and he fucking hated it but—

“Stop trying to touch it,” he said shortly, twisting his body and his arm away from Steve for maybe the third time already, trying to conjure up some spit so he wouldn’t have another round of hacking his lungs up. “Shouldn’t open it in this…ashy shit.”  
***

Steve glanced up and around them, brow furrowing as they paused on the tracks. Eyeing the ‘ashy shit’ that drifted around them almost lazily. He remembered that giant pod…flower…thing – in the tunnels. It had sort of…sort of sneezed, and this shit had come out. Practically killed Dustin, according to Dustin. 

“I…I know the air’s bad, but, that’s just some kind of pollen. From these – I dunno – pod things? Anyway, just let me look. I just want to make sure it’s not getting infected.” He frowned at Billy, extending long, delicate fingers as he tentatively reached for him again. For the third time. He was starting to get a little irritated, and he knew Billy was too – he knew, rationally, that it was because they were both hungry and tired and thirsty, and Billy was obviously hurting. So he really tried to tamp that shit down and not snap about it. He tried to keep his voice level and calm.

“C’mon, please? If anything, I can wrap it up again with something…” He winced. “- clean.” Though he didn’t know what.

At this point he was considering tearing off a sleeve of his jacket and using that – the white t-shirt that was around Billy’s forearm was staining yellow with pus, browning at the edges with age. Crusty.  
***

“Clean?” Billy said, no small amount of bite to his voice as he wrenched himself away again. He tried to laugh, a mean little thing, but didn’t get further than a second into it. After that another round of coughing hit him hard enough to make him gag harshly and double over, grimacing and spitting into what would probably have been gravel up top. “Nothing’s clean.”

He was starting to get irritated in a way he hadn’t in what felt like ages. A hair trigger is what Bea called it, a sharp defense. Jab somebody before they jabbed you first, beat them to it. Only Steve had already fucking done that, and now it was like a parasite burrowing inside him, painful and vindictive. 

“Don’t touch me, don’t pretend you want to touch me.”  
***

Steve’s brows inched up even higher on his forehead than they had been before, and he withdrew his hands to immediately perch them atop his hips instead, fingers twitching. He rest most of his weight on one leg as he leaned forward, neck stretching out like a pissy bird.

“Hey! This fucking sucks enough in here, you think we need to be biting each others heads off? I can’t freaking control how clean shit is, Billy!” 

A wave of dizziness washed over him, thirst making his throat clutch tight, and he had to lean back for a second, browline flinching as he reached up a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Eyes clenching shut.

“That….that’s not fair. That’s not fair.” Steve said, voice quieter now, but somehow more intense. Even though he knew, no, it was fair. It was plenty fair. He’d pretty much committed to them never touching like that again for the rest of their lives. For both of them. Billy hadn’t had a choice in that matter. “I – I never said that. I mean I, I know I said – “Steve’s entire face spasmed a little behind the shirt fabric, his mouth caving. His brain, memories, felt scattered. Or like, incorrect. Like dreams. “I know I said not to touch me -then-, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to, there’s a difference.”  
***

“Would you? Would you?”

Billy meant it to be harsh and cutting, and maybe it sounded like that the first time. The second time was—different. Very different. It was...pleading. Raw and irritable but pleading more than anything. His vision was swimming and it wasn’t from hunger or coughing or the pain in his arm just then. He didn’t even want to try and wipe his eyes, not sure what might happen if he rubbed ash inside of them, and that made it worse. 

He could swear the sky was getting darker again, almost like it was delighted. Like it wanted him to be miserable and begging in front of Steve for the second time in a month, and he couldn’t stop. 

“Would you?”

***

Steve’s breath picked up just enough at that, feeling somehow more cornered, confronted, than he had a moment ago when Billy had actually been biting at him. This was somehow worse. A hundred things ran through Steve’s head. A hundred things, all at once, loopy and disjointed, and it made his head freaking hurt trying to keep all of them straight. To try and make the best decision, say the right thing, when – when, looking at him, all he wanted…

...all he wanted was to give in, as Billy spilled precious water in front of him. To touch him as much as he wanted. Maybe they were never getting out of here. He wanted to have faith and to trust in his friends. In Hopper. In Eleven. But what if they were stuck here. What if they died here. He loved Billy. He wanted Billy to know it. Why else had he been sending those stupid coupons in the mail that probably made no sense to anybody but Steve? Huh? Some ‘secret code’ that was probably just nonsense. He had to curl his hands up at his sides to not reach out.

“It – “ Steve’s throat worked as he started back at Billy desperately, clicking as he swallowed hard, swallowed dry, barely any spit in his mouth. “When we get out of here – “ he said ‘when’ like it was possible. Like it would happen. “What if nothing changes? What if nothing changes, Billy?”

Steve took a stumbling step back, glanced up the tracks. “I - we need to keep going. We need to keep going, before it gets dark again.” It had only been a few hours since daylight. “I - pl...please don’t cry. Please. It’ll dehydrate you worse, we need to…” Steve shook his head, swiping at his own eyes as he kept walking down the tracks, shoulders hunched. It felt like running.  
***

Billy’s posture mirrored Steve’s but he wouldn’t have known it. He kept his eyes on the ground for the most part, in the general direction of Steve’s shoes but refusing to land on them completely. It’s as bad as how he’d felt at the fair and how he’d felt in his car at the trailer but here he has an audience of a completely different kind. It walks in front of him after ripping his guts out, it looms above him and is—pleased. 

He can’t really do what Steve says but he can’t control it. The tears make the torn shirt over his mouth damp but he can’t stop. What he can do is be quiet and small all over again, tell himself how stupid he was to get his hopes up in a place like this. A place where everything is devoid of that, of hope and happiness and life. A place where every single breath gets more difficult the longer he has to take them. 

They come to a long path and a security gate, Hawkins Lab in the very near distance, and Billy didn’t stop to look around. He walked past Steve and slouched as he passed, stayed in the direct middle of the path—away from big flowers not far off, ones he recognized now but...different ones too. Bigger ones. Only out of sight when he got to the front doors and at least they weren’t difficult to knock over, too broken down and rusted over. 

He stopped moving when he heard Steve come in behind him, decided this was as good of a place as any, and held his arm out. His eyes were elsewhere, maybe on nothing, and he didn’t say anything either. At least he could not be difficult.  
***

Steve glanced up at him in surprise at the gesture, despite the incredibly awkward, uncomfortable silence that had dogged his steps like a ghost at his back, haunting him with everything he’d done wrong. How much he’d fucked everything up, and, was too afraid of shadows to fix anything. Even when all of the shadows were here, out in the open. 

Steve blinked, then allowed his gaze to slide away from Billy’s when their eyes didn’t meet – as Billy looked elsewhere – down to his extended arm instead. He took a few steps forward and self consciously wiped his hands on his jean shorts, like that could make a difference in how clean they were. Yeah right. He reached up to wordlessly unknot the t-shirt at Billy’s elbow to start slowly unwinding it down to his wrist. It made crunchy sounds as Steve unwound it, layers sticking to themselves and making it difficult. Steve’s eyes widened little by little the more he uncovered. 

It looked….it looked….bad. It looked really bad. It had only been a day. Steve didn’t know how wounds reacted in this place. Will never actually got hurt, not physically. There were big boil-looking blisters, like you got when you touched the stove, but like, times one hundred. Big, angry looking welts with liquid beneath. That tell-tale yellow pus still oozed from where gaps it hadn’t already crusted over. Steve thought that might be where some of them had gotten broken open, staining the cloth. 

“Okay…Okay, okay. This – this t-shirt isn’t gonna do the trick anymore. We need to replace it. This….the lab. They’ve gotta have stuff here. If they were sending people into the Upside Down, there must be a stash. We just have to find it.”  
***

Billy didn’t reply but it didn’t seem to matter. He was busy staring at his arm, nauseated by the sight of it. Anywhere else and it wouldn’t have progressed like this. Even if he’d waited a little too long to try and treat it it wouldn’t have looked like this. A little redder maybe, but—he didn’t know what it had been made of, the acid that had peeled the first two layers of skin away. He didn’t have much hope of ever finding out. 

He followed Steve distractedly as they weaved through hallways, stayed back as Steve poked his head into offices and double doors. He didn’t react even when Steve swore in frustration in front of a decrepit looking doctor’s office, didn’t move an inch. He didn’t want to bother. They might die and Steve still wouldn’t touch him and he’d be alone and it was almost the same as above this fucking terrible place. He just felt tired, bone weary like his mom used to say, dog-tired like Susan said. 

Eventually they made it down into the bottom half of the building and Billy was stuck still again. The entire side of the building looked fucked up, burnt and throbbing just like his arm felt. There was a tank nearby just like the Diving Bell ride he’d liked as a kid, though this one looked sinister. Like only someone small could fit well inside, and it didn’t look like a ride to him at all.  
***

Steve was feeling pissy by about the fifth time he’d tried talking to Billy and he’d been ignored, gotten the cold shoulder, Billy moving along passively alongside him but not particularly participating. Steve’s movements had become jerkier, his pace a little faster, even as he sagged with exhaustion and hunger.

He knew Billy was upset, Steve knew it was his fault. He just hated when Billy did this. He’d seen him do it before. When he made himself quiet, made himself small, like he was somehow trying to make himself invisible, to stay out of the way. It was inherently so…not Billy. Not the Billy Steve knew and loved. It was the Billy that Neil drew out of him. And it made Steve want to hit something when Billy made him feel like Neil – like when he’d flinched away from him when Steve had been drunk. Afraid of him hurting him. It made his stomach sicken, sour, turn. 

By the time they got down to the basement Steve had stopped trying to interact with him because he couldn’t bear to look at that reaction. He gave the sensory deprivation tank a wide berth – hell yeah he knew what that thing was, and no way – the gate in the wall, too. It was bizarre that it still looked open and wounded here – while on the other side, it was cold and dark. Dead. Here, it looked alive and sort of….oozing. Steve tried not to look at it, but this seemed like the most logical place a first aid kit might be. 

When he found it, he really found it. It was in a big metal box – maybe white at one point, rusting at the edges, but with an unmistakable red cross over the front, peeling and faded, but there, locked against the wall. He finally got the latches open to hit the freaking motherload. He wanted to turn to Billy – to rejoice and jump around and have at least some kind of joy over small victories, but he just sort of frowned and gathered his arms full of vaccuum sealed shit. He closed his eyes with his arms full of something close enough to salvation, closed them in something like relief that at least something was working out. Nothing in the sealed plastic looked touched by their surroundings. He gave up some kind of thanks to whatever god might be there – and it wasn’t the one in this red and black lightning torn sky. 

He headed toward Billy, a little bit more of a bounce in his step – at least as much bounce as he could have when they were still both starving and thirsty. But this would at least help Billy’s arm. Infection was more dangerous, and this could stave it off. Give them more time. “I knew those assholes would have to have something.” He said with the vacuum sealed pack in his arms – they just had to unseal it and see what was inside. “But uh – you wanna go back upstairs? This place is creepier than the rest of this hellhole…”  
***

Billy’s eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as he watched Steve move closer, arms full of things he couldn’t make out. He looked around at Steve’s question and he agreed, swallowing around nothing at all as his eyes focused on the tank again. Like it wanted him to climb right in, like it wanted him to picture who’d been in it last. He could guess. 

“Okay,” he said finally, eyes still not meeting Steve’s, not even close. He reached out to take a few of the bags and did his best not to make their hands touch at all, just thought he ought to be of some fucking use even if his arm still hurt each time he moved, uncovered and open to the air. 

He followed Steve up another floor until they came to a hallway full of—bedrooms. Patient rooms. They looked like children’s bedrooms almost, though it was hard to tell with everything so broken down. He saw Steve stop in front of a room a bit different from the others. A play room maybe, in some other time and place, a clouded rainbow in smudged paint on the wall. But that wasn’t what he was really focused on—it was at the end of the hall. 

“Steve.”  
***

Steve paused in front of one of the rooms – he was thinking about how Eleven had told him about the rainbow room, well, told all the kids, too. He guessed this must have been her room, at one point. He felt a little better with the worn symbol on the wall, like a connection to home. A sign from home. But the ceiling in the room had caved in, so maybe they could find one close by, similar to it. There would only be one way in, one way out, no windows, less chance of being attacked easily. 

When Billy finally said Steve’s name in – what felt like ages, it was in such a way that made the fine baby hair’s at the nape of his neck raise up. Steve’s eyes widened a little, lashes fanning wide as he turned toward Billy over his shoulder, frowning at him with concern – brow knitting together. His arms were still full. 

“Billy? What’s wrong?”  
***

Billy pointed to what he’d been staring at, what he still couldn’t take his eyes off of. It looked like some flower he remembered from science class, the biggest flower on the planet. Stinking corpse lily. This one was smaller than that and it didn’t smell like death, it smelled—kind of nice. Sweet, like bee pollen or something. He couldn’t stop staring at the way it looked, all its petals closed in, the way it moved almost like it was...breathing. 

“Let’s—away from it,” he said, voice barely there, unnerved by how difficult it was to stop staring at the thing. He hugged the vacuum sealed bags to his chest and moved past Steve and into the room next to the rainbow one, kept them there as he sat down on the ground. “Steve.”

***

“Oh – oh shit. O-okay yeah.” Steve’s frame went rigid when he landed eyes on the thing – this great, furled up bloom along the wall at the end of the hallway. It was massive. They’d already seen a lot of flowers – creepy, twitchy, sharp little things. Ready to spit them up with poison again, he was sure. But this was one was different. It was a deep, mottled red hue from the outside of the petals, but all closed up like that, it eerily reminded him of the way the demogorgon’s ‘face’ looked – which was, well, faceless, all sealed up petals. But Steve knew what it opened into.

But this wasn’t a demogorgon. It was just a flower. Right? He would be the one to say that in the upside down. Nothing could be trusted here. But like a flower, it even smelled good, which was…strangely bizarre, in a place like this. Kind of like…perfume or, or something, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it…it – Steve made a face. It sort of, almost smelled like…Billy’s cologne, a hint of Marlboros, and Big Red gum. It was hard to look away now that he was looking at it. Yeah….yeah, he agreed with Billy – get away from it. Steve might be losing his mind in here. 

Steve slunk into the patient room behind Billy, clutching the vacuum packs to his chest. It was so dark in here – darker than out there, even. But those lab boys had been prepared. He pulled out a little mini propane heater – matches – lots of stuff for dressing wounds, too, considering where they were. When he lit the heater, the vines in the hall chirped and slithered away. The orange glow of the flame was a comforting one while Steve popped up the tiny emergency tent, tossing in a few foil thermal blankets he’d torn out of packets. Then the first thing he did was get Billy’s arm laid out once they were in the tent, somewhere reasonably clean. He left both of their disgusting shoes at the door.

“Well I guess some things are clean…” Steve muttered like a little bitch as he unwrapped the blessedly clean gauze. “I know they’re assholes, and this is all their fault in the first place, but at least something’s gone right.“

Steve was extra gentle though, as he mopped up his forearm with the sterile alcohol pads. Trying to be as careful as possible, although he still felt Billy quivering with pain under the pressure. He started to wrap the ivory gauze from Billy’s wrist upwards. Steve winced. “Sorry, I’m sorry - sorry - is that okay? Is that too tight?” 

He tipped his chin up to look at Billy’s eyes, his own large and inquiring in the darkness, the flicker of the flame reflecting in them. Lips parting. They were so close. Steve could still smell that phantom scent of Billy - though it wasn’t coming from the boy in front of him. Steve bit at his lip and drew away, dropping his eyes, gathering up some of the left over garbage to busy his hands. He just sort of threw it out of the tent. No reason to worry about littering. Something dry seemed to catch in his throat, and he caught himself coughing into his elbow, this dry, rattling thing that shook his whole frame.

“I think…I think I saw a few of the packs labeled ‘rations.’ I’m almost afraid to look.” He croaked, and his stomach gave an insistent pang – it had stopped making noises, though, and Steve thought that was probably a bad sign. Now it just felt hollow and achy. But what he’d really kill for, more than food, was water. His voice sounded like he’d had a cold for a week - wrecked.  
***

Billy felt a bit like his brain was misfiring, like it was a faulty tape recorder. He hadn’t registered what Steve had said until a few seconds later, distracted by a smell. That sweet smell was warm and comforting and made him feel almost sleepy, had him staring off into space with his eyes fixed on Steve. Then he snapped out of it when the words had processed and nodded, straightening up—he’d been leaning toward Steve rather heavily. 

He pulled his pocket knife out of his shorts and flipped it open, tearing across two bags at once because he honestly wasn’t sure how capable he’d be doing it by hand. When he turned them over, several packets of what he could only call astronaut food hit the floor. None of them looked appetizing in the least but it didn’t matter, he just grabbed the greenest looking one and ripped it open similarly, not tasting it as he practically inhaled it. 

“Here,” he said hoarsely, pushing the rest toward Steve, still careful not to make them touch, not to make Steve touch. His arm did feel—well, not better, but cleaner at least for now and he looked down at it, flexing his forearm to see if it hurt worse or less. Just his luck, it felt almost exactly the same as when it had first happened.  
***

Steve eyed the packets cautiously, shifting a little on his knees as he leaned forward to examine one – even as Billy was scarfing one down. Steve reached out tentatively to touch at his elbow, a brief, stilling motion. He knew what he’d said on the tracks, but suddenly - he just really wanted to touch him. Bad. Maybe it was because they were finally in a semi-safe space.

“Hey – hey, take it really slow, or you’re just gonna barf it back up. And we…we’ve gotta save most of it. I’m not sure – how long it’s gotta last us. This is it.” He glanced over the packets, trying to add how much it was up in his mind. 

They could really just eat enough to keep their blood sugar up and to keep from starving, he figured. He accepted one of the packets Billy had shorn open and tried some of the white gruel looking stuff. He wasn’t entirely sure – maybe it was the starving thing – but it was one of the best fucking things he’d tasted, even if it looked like grits had rolled over and died. He made a happy humming sound and tried to stop himself from stuffing his face like Billy, eating it more slowly, but it wasn’t pretty either. Using his fingers and getting half of it on his face, bandana in his lap.  
***

Billy stilled at Steve’s touch and found himself sighing softly, deflating a bit, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. The feeling was gone as quick as it came when Steve’s hand disappeared—for the most part. It left behind some sweet, warm feeling even if it was peppered in with that gnawing heartache right at the center of him. It was almost like something inside of him was trying to soothe it, even though it made no sense at all. 

He watched Steve eat with what he could definitely say was more fine tuned interest than he’d ever had watching somebody eat something. Without even realizing it he reached out and swiped the corner of Steve’s mouth with his finger, then flinched as if shoved right back into his senses. He licked it off of his finger anyway, a quiet and hoarse sorry before his eyes turned elsewhere, cheeks aflame. 

There wasn’t any water but he didn’t want to call attention to it, figured that Steve had put the pieces together on his own. So he decided to direct his attention to the tent, the space blankets looking more comfortable than anything he’d seen in his entire life. He abandoned the rations in favor of climbing inside, kicking his converse off after a second or two of struggle. It was the first bit of calm they’d had since they’d fallen in and his body knew it somehow, drew him to what he’d deemed his side and weighed his eyelids down.  
***

Steve stared after Billy’s retreating back for a second, raising a hand to where that rough finger had swiped over his cheek, like he could still feel the indent of his fingerprint there. Like a brand. He felt a little dumb, watching him get into the tent – the way his ass looked in tiny shorts, which was displayed perfectly as he bent over, and blood rushed to Steve’s cheeks – mirroring Billy’s blush from only a second ago. His veins felt sort of prickly, like all of the blood was rushing to the surface of his skin, shifting the map of them. 

He finished up the packet, then carefully tucked the rest of them away into the edge of the tent – protected on the inside where it was clean. His bandana forgotten, he toed off his Nikes to scramble in after Billy, a little gracelessly. His stomach really hurt with the new food, like it had forgotten what the hell it was supposed to do with that shit, and his throat seemed even more like the Sahara than before. 

But it was something. Food was something. Blankets and the real shelter, that was something.

Steve wanted to lay with Billy like the other night. Pressed together. It wasn’t as cold now, though, with the little gas heater – but that wouldn’t last. Only until the propane petered out. Steve assumed the other side, the other blanket was his, and he found himself drawing the foil-like blanket up around his shoulders as he settled down on the hard floor -–barely blanketed by the tent fabric, but also comfortable enough to pass out right there, he was so completely exhausted, and having food in his belly made it worse. He was practically dropping right here.

He knew he should stay up – keep watch – especially with that creepy flower thing down the hall, but it was probably just like the other flowers. They just shouldn’t get too close or it’d spit shit at them, and it was far away, down the hall. Steve tried not to let the distance between him and Billy get to him - nor the awkward, blistering silence that had plagued them since the tracks. 

Even now, Billy wasn’t really talking to him. It left this gaping wound in Steve’s chest - everything amiss, everything wrong. Steve curled up into a fetal position beneath the shimmering blanket, squeezing his eyes shut. He wished he was laying with Billy. He wanted to cross that distance so badly, the tension between them so heavy he could hardly breathe. But maybe that was just the air.  
***

Billy had the oddest, filthiest fucking dreams that night. Some kind of painful Best Of reel of every time he’d had sex with Steve, though it wasn’t exactly clear. Just blurs, smudges of skin like paintbrush strokes and that sweet smell stronger than ever. As jarring as they were, as hurtful as they were to remember, he couldn’t seem to wake up. Just existed in some blurred version of the last few months and—

He woke up to the sound of Steve saying his name, eyes snapping open like he was suddenly awake, no time between his deep and strange sleep and sitting up straight. It didn’t feel like it had been enough sleep, not even close, but Steve sounded concerned.

“What?” he asked, opening his mouth to ask again and stopping there, lips parted as he realized what Steve might be waking him for. The air was—pink. Soft and sweet smelling and thick, the sound of something a lot like sneezing in the distance.  
***

Steve had woken up hard. He guessed that wasn’t exactly out of the norm for him – but under the circumstances, having a raging hard on, not just exactly regular morning wood, was less than ideal. Not to mention that fucking dream he’d had. He’d never wanted to wake up, swamped with the scent of Billy’s cologne, deep in his heat, all skin on skin, and familiar, filthy sounds like a soundtrack to another life. One he missed, ached for, needed, dreamt of.

He wasn’t sure what had woken him at first until he heard it again – like a – sneeze? But no. Not a normal sneeze. Like when that flower in the tunnels had sneezed all over Dustin. Like that. He’d been instantly alert, awake and sitting up, searching for – something – anything – it was probably just more of that ash stuff, but…it wasn’t. Steve was immediately crossing over to Billy, shaking him awake, because the air surrounding them was shimmering like a veil of….pink. Kind of like when they sprayed perfume in cartoons in a pink cloud from that glass bottle with a puffer thing at the end, like that. The sound came again – 

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered, voice hoarse, like he was losing it. “I think it’s that flower, it – “ 

Steve blinked, blearily, as Billy suddenly swam in and out of focus. Like a camera lens being adjusted. Then suddenly, he was TOO in focus, almost blindingly so. Making each line of his face grow sharp in relief, burning itself into Steve’s brain. Steve blinked rapidly at him, as if to clear his eyes. But he felt his pulse rate immediately shoot up, and all he could smell was that perfect Billy smell, but more in depth now. Like getting a brief sip of wine to taste test compared to drinking the whole bottle. 

It smelled like – he smelled like – that cologne, yes, Big Red, smokes, but also – he smelled like the pool, like that Banana boat suntan oil he used, and like hot chocolate, blue icee, and like the flowers he’d bought on mother’s day, and too many – too many smells, memories associated with each. Steve’s dick twitched in his shorts, already aching and angry from the second he woke up, and he felt his breath hitch in his chest. Pupils blowing wide and dark in his face, until those chocolate eyes looked more like black holes. Almost animalistic. 

He couldn’t help himself - he was already reaching out to Billy, hands trembling slightly as he smoothed them over the broad of his chest. Staring down at the movement like he was mesmerized, reverent, lower lip parting open, jaw lax.  
***

Billy felt that terrible agony of heartache slam up against the relief of Steve’s hands on him finally and it wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt before. Relief magnified, blown to a million times its normal size. A soft sob worked its way to the back of his throat and his eyes welled up instantly, his own pupils a blown out mirror image of Steve’s. Nothing had ever felt this good, nothing would ever feel this good. 

He canted toward Steve as he sat on his heels, body swaying like it was in a breeze. One hand lifted shakily to touch Steve’s cheek while the other moved down, fingers closing over the prominent outline of his cock. When he gave it a short squeeze he whimpered like he was being the one touched, needed it so bad that it bulldozed any hunger or fatigue he’d felt so far. It was painted all over his face and in the way he shook, the way he panted for breath, chest rising and falling rapidly under Steve’s hands.  
***

Steve immediately tipped his head into Billy’s touch, nuzzling into the callused palm at his cheek, hungry and aching for the touch, like he’d been desperate for it for a month. Starved of it. He didn’t need food, water, only this.

It almost felt like still dreaming. He didn’t know what was happening, but also, he couldn’t really seem to find it in himself to fight it either. He just knew he wanted Billy, wanted him so bad, wanted to be with him, touch him, forever and always, any time, every year. As Billy’s breath picked up beneath Steve’s hands, he took it as assent and immediately thumbed over the peaks of Billy’s nipples beneath the fabric of his shirt, tweaking them in unison as he leaned in closer. 

He gave a soft gasp as Billy’s other hand closed over his clothed dick, fingers forming along it, and Steve’s hips immediately stuttered forward desperately into that much needed touch. Long lashes fluttering as electricity zinged up his spine.

Jesus Christ, it felt incredible, like all of his nerves had been brought back to life after a long hibernation. Steve had been dead, and he was finally alive again. His entire body lit up, his cock already leaking, darkening the denim of his shorts. Everything was Billy, Billy, Billy, and Steve was suddenly chanting it under his raspy breath, like a prayer, surging forward in the tiny, cramped tent to search out his lips. Movements jerky with impatience and desire.  
***

Billy’s free hand shot out the second Steve moved even a millimeter forward, closing on the back of his neck and tugging him until the space between them no longer existed. Their lips met and he sobbed, a short and desperate sound before he threw himself into it. The kiss was perfect, deep and wet and sloppy, more urgent than he could ever remember a kiss between them being. He could hardly remember anything before this at all. 

He pitched himself backwards immediately and pulled Steve down with him, spreading his legs and urging Steve to grind up against him. Every heartache fell by the wayside in the face of this frantic desperation and he couldn’t even speak, had no words in his mind to say. He snuck his hand down into Steve’s shorts and squeezed his cock, moaning into Steve’s mouth because it really did feel like he was the one being touched. Every inch of skin that met with Steve’s was on fire, throbbing and thrumming with a desire that bowled him over completely.  
***

Steve felt like there were a million things he needed to say, but he couldn’t seem to remember any of them – all of his words replaced by this non-verbal urgency, an urgency on expressing those thoughts physically, not by mouth, unless it was with his tongue. He was sprawled out on top of Billy in what felt like only a heartbeat, bodies flush, the only proper way to be. Their mouths connected like they’d never be separated again, two pieces of one whole. Jaws working, tongue’s searching, hungry and scattered, the kind of kiss that had their teeth clicking. 

Steve’s brain distantly told him that both of their mouths had to be disgusting, too dry, lips chapped to hell, but Billy only tasted like that intoxicating smell – Big Red and Marlboros, licking tar from his tongue from a cigarette he hadn’t smoked in days. Swallowing the sob from his lips, aching to make it better, to make everything better. To fix it. Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head, making a desperate, whining sound as Billy’s fingers slipped past the waistband of his shorts, cupping his aching dick, and he immediately ground down – hand and all – against Billy’s cock. 

Clothes. No more clothes. Clothes – they needed to go. Fucking evil things. Now. Steve’s fingers were fumbling, tugging at the elastic of Billy’s flimsy shorts to tug them down, briefs too, freeing his cock. Letting it smack against his stomach with a satisfying, wet sound, already leaking, positively leaking for Steve. If he’d had any saliva left, his mouth would have started watering at the sight. In only a second, he had both of their shorts shoved down around their knees, too impatient for much more than that. He needed to touch Billy, now, yesterday, a month ago. There wasn’t any time. 

He wrapped the strong fingers of his right hand around Billy’s cock, thumbing over the head, and let out a breathy, delirious moan of relief at the sensation. Hot and firm and velvet and perfect. He gave a quick, hard couple strokes before he was flipping Billy over, stealing the wallet from his shorts, and ripping open a lube packet with his teeth. It drizzled messily over his hand, before he was smearing it over his own cock, feeling dizzy as he stared at Billy’s ass displayed before him. Steve grasped at his hip with a free hand, steadying him.  
***

Billy tried to push back but something stopped him and it wasn’t just the large hand at his hip. It was something deeper, more animalistic than that. Something that made him bend over further, pressing his cheek against the floor of the tent. Something that made him shake all over, that curled his fingers into the space blanket near his hands on either side. 

“Please,” he begged, and his voice was unrecognizable to himself. It was desperate and needy and still with that tiny bit of heartache in it, all of the longing of the past month coming to a head. He believed in that moment that he might die, that he would die if Steve stopped touching him. It was a fact that should’ve scared him—but it didn’t. It just made him sink down further.  
***

Something deep and primal, visceral, split open in Steve’s chest as Billy got his ass up in the air, presenting to him like a creature in heat, leaving Steve with no option but to mount. Like something ancient and unweathered by time, something that never changed. He leaned forward to grasp one firm, corded forearm around Billy’s stomach as he pressed his forehead against the dip between Billy’s shoulder blades, licking up his spine. 

Panting against his skin, croaking ‘anything’ in a husky voice before he immediately sank a finger into his ass – slick with lube – faster than he’d ever done before, up to his knuckle and already working it with purpose. Honestly, it was everything he could do to keep himself in check and not breach Billy without any prep at all, the urge to sink his dick into him more insistent and pushy than any he’d felt in his life, like he might actually fucking die if he didn’t now. 

He was already fumbling with a second, shaking finger, scissoring them open, too fast, too fast, but also curling into the tight, close heat, gesturing ‘come here, here.’ Two became three, too much, too fast, but he couldn’t wait, he couldn’t – couldn’t – his fingers were already popping out with a filthy sound. Couldn’t wait.

He arched back, using his other hand to help press Billy farther against the floor, fingers splayed over the small of his back,, and guiding his cock with the other. He rubbed the head at Billy’s entrance, absolutely blanking out, before thrusting forward. Honestly it just sort of happened. It wasn’t slight and it wasn’t easing it was like his hips took control entirely and he couldn’t slow them. Steadily driving forward, giving a ragged groan. It was absolutely electric. Like a thunderstorm.  
***

Billy let out one loud, ragged, high pitched gasp that shook his entire frame at the feeling. The sting of Steve’s cock registered first before the sensation buzzed away to join the cacophony of pleasure in his head, like a bee returning to its swarm. His eyes stung but the rest of him went entirely pliant, passive under Steve’s hand urging him down. It was like he thought it would be only better, infinitely more than everything in a way he couldn’t even conceive. 

He didn’t really have to, it turned out, because his mind went blank in an instant. Reduced to nothing but high and cloying whines, saccharine sweet sounds like his entire being was trying to sweet talk Steve into something—to push harder, to take, to come inside of him. 

Anything joined the rest of the racket of noises and sensations in his brain, the rough sound of it coupled with the sound of Steve breathing behind him. Alive and wanting and touching him, finally touching him and so much more than that.  
***

The sweet little simpering sounds Billy was making, as enticing as any sounds Steve had ever heard, urged him on, let him know Billy wanted it, wanted him. Liked it. Asked for more. Steve bottomed out and was already setting a punishing rhythm, still holding Billy down by the small of his back, steadying him at the hip with the other – enough that he could pull Billy’s pelvis back against each of Steve’s thrusts, perfectly in time. 

It was like a well-worn story, one he’d heard a million times, one he had each line memorized, one he couldn’t forget. Comforting and all-encompassing in it’s familiarity, safety, and perfect pleasure. Steve raised Billy’s hip a little with that one, large hand, guiding him until he knew he could hit the angle he needed to. Pounding skin against skin as he pressed for the spot inside of Billy that would light him up, make him quiver with it.  
***

Billy felt—strangely disconnected from his body. Like it was serving some purpose he knew nothing about, the urge to let go growing stronger the harder he inhaled that sweet, pink air around him. He pressed his cheek further into the ground as white hot pleasure shot almost painfully up his spine, body seizing up as he came with no warning, not even the lightest touch to himself. More unrecognizable, unbelievably satiated sounds left his mouth and he could feel his curls sticking to his face as he panted, eyelids fluttering helplessly. 

This time he had no desire to stop, if anything he wanted more, much much more. He pushed back finally but it was—strange, it was like a test. Like whatever was in him wanted to test Steve, see what he could get away with even if the rest of him was shaking against the floor. He thought he might’ve been saying Steve’s name but it all came out in a slurred jumble of sound, face screwed up, miserable with pleasure.  
***

Steve felt like he was chasing something, eternally chasing something – his orgasm, the pleasure, he supposed, normally would have thought that. But it was weird, it almost felt like…like that’s all he could focus on, the chase, like this eternal thing. It got his hips going faster, almost mindless, and it felt a lot like having his strings pulled by some unseen force – he was absolutely gasping now, expending energy he simply didn’t have, and the harder he sucked in air, lungs rattling with moisture, he was just breathing in lungfulls of that pink shit and it – it made everything okay. It was all fucking okay. Better than.

It kind of felt like being high. It felt like that time he’d fucked Becky in Traci’s bathroom sophomore year when he’d been so fucking gone that he hadn’t even really remembered any of it the next day. It felt a lot like that. Like way too much pot, hazy, crazy, but he couldn’t get his hips to stop, didn’t want them to stop. Even when he felt Billy coming Steve just drove harder to really milk it out of him, make him feel good through the whole thing, before Steve was coming too. Driving forward endlessly, hips stilling as he froze up, gulping for saturated, fuschia air and shuddering through it. 

What was even more abnormal was that nothing happened - yeah, he’d emptied come into Billy’s ass, but there was no...no oversensitivity. He wasn’t going soft. He was good to keep going, like this was only a blip. He was still horribly hard, almost painfully so, fully sheathed. His balls still ached like he hadn’t come at all. He thought he heard Billy saying something, but he didn’t...couldn’t…

”Wh...wha.. Babe…?” He slurred, fingers skittering over Billy’s back, his ass, like they were unsure where to land. Confused.  
***

Billy heard the endearment, the first one in over a month, and it sounded like music. His body responded immediately, legs spreading open and his arms moving up to flatten himself further, his ass still pushed up high. He rolled his hips back and couldn’t stop, not even if he was shaking, getting tired. His body wouldn’t let him, it wanted to wring him dry. 

His chin tilted up like it was waiting for something, lips parted and eyes closed. Every few seconds his expression would flinch with a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort, something almost petulant about it. He wanted to grab something for purchase or move faster but his body refused, told him to stay down like it was the only thing he was ever meant to do. To stay nice and easy for Steve, to keep his cock inside of him as long as he could.  
***

Steve was more than willing to continue to take when Billy offered, but it wasn’t quite as frantic this time, as frenzied, partially because he was already starting to tire, lagging like a skipping record. Not enough food, water, or sleep to prepare him for this pace. This time he bent to curl along Billy’s back as he started the rhythm back up, slower this time, rocking into him from behind on his knees.

He curled his arms around Billy’s belly again, using one hand to furl around his still-hard cock, despite him having come, too. Bobbing heavy between his legs. Steve’s hand was still slippery with lube and he drew along Billy’s rigid length in time with his slower, but no less insistent thrusts. 

He kissed along that broad back with dry, cracking lips, licking along his skin and nosing at one too-sharp shoulder blade. Steve’s other hand tickled up his side to curl up around the edge of a straining neck, tangling his fingers up in Billy’s frazzled, golden curls and wrapping up tight, tugging a little the way he knew Billy liked. Mouthing at the side of his neck as his thrusts started to gain more momentum, shaking them both. 

“Mmh…” Steve moaned against Billy’s salty skin, nipping at it, showing his teeth. “Love you, l-lo...love...you. Billy. Billy. My - my Billy. Mine.” Almost as an afterthought, he completed his sentence before ghost-will had shown up at the Byers’ place. Like he could finally say it. Voice breaking.“M...missed you.”  
***

Billy gasped again but it wasn’t the sweet relief of pleasure, of finally having Steve inside of him after so long. It was bone deep and the heartache was louder than everything else for a long, agonizing moment. Tears ran freely down his face and he knew he couldn’t afford to shed them but he had no way of controlling it, no way at all. He was Steve’s, he was always Steve’s and Steve loved him, missed him. 

His second orgasm came swiftly after that, cock dribbling meager amounts of come underneath him and into Steve’s hand. It didn’t stop him from moving but it made every movement that much weaker, slower, trembling everywhere. All the pain from the past month was escaping through his lips and down his face, blanketed by an uncontrollable ache that searched out pleasure to keep him alive.  
***

“D…don….cry…’m sorry…’m sorry…baby…please…please…” Steve’s voice was almost nonexistent, hoarse as if with misuse. 

He used the hand coiled up in Billy’s locks to tip his face towards him, pressing into him as he felt taut muscles flutter and contract around his cock with release. Working him over with one hand through the orgasm, meager come oozing over his knuckles. Steve pressed the dry of his lips against Billy’s, eyes slipping closed as his own tears slid down his temple, over the bridge of his nose, tracking through his hairline. He couldn’t stop himself from continuing to work his hips, grinding forward even as he began to shake with outright fatigue. 

Tonguing over Billy’s lower lip like a desperate plea for everything to be okay, for things to be right – he opened wet eyes, damp lashes sticking together with tears as he focused over-bright, pupil-dark eyes on Billy. Searching for something, he didn’t know. That Billy still loved him. That it was more than ‘not hate.’ That Steve hadn’t ruined it for good. That this wasn’t the last time, not like on the kitchen table, both of them crying then, too. Like an omen of ill-boding.  
***

“Love you, iloveyouiloveyou,” Billy whimpered into the kiss, gasping shortly for air though quieter now, more labored than anything. “Don’t go, don’t go.”

Once he started he couldn’t stop, that frantic, whispered plea sinking its claws right into him and refusing to budge. It wouldn’t let him rest until he’d said it a million times, and then a million more. There was no escaping this feeling, this urge to be joined and close and together in every way possible. The tears wouldn’t come but he was still crying, seeking out Steve’s mouth as he weakly tried to meet each exhausted and erratic thrust. Still speaking and unable to stop.  
***

“Loveyou,loveyou, I won’t – won’t – ‘m not goin’ anywhere. Won’t leave. Wontleaveyou. P-p…pink…y…promise.” Steve gasped out, his thrusts becoming more spaced out, chaotic and weak, even as another orgasm rattled up his spine, clenching his stomach, stilling him as he puffed each breath against Billy’s mouth, face screwing up with pleasure before his lips went lax with it against Billy’s.

There came another sound that sounded suspiciously like a sneeze, not far off. Only seconds after, a fresh cloud of fuschia dust seemed to roll in, like a dreamy swamp sunset, doubling the murky quality of the air like tye-dyed smoke. Nebulous and surreal. Steve’s head positively swam. Everything got hazy after that. He knew time was passing, but he didn’t know how much, like nothing was real. Definitely not Steve. He only remembered chasing something he could never reach, like a nightmare hamster wheel.

Steve maybe remembered coming a few more times – coming dry, coming until it hurt, until he was slumped down flat over Billy on the floor, face buried into the back of his neck, the curls there chilled with sweat. He was still buried in Billy’s ass, where cold, spent come oozed past his cheeks, he thought, but he couldn’t move anymore – exhaustion having won out. He was still trembling with it, seeming to fade in and out of consciousness.


	14. Chapter 14

Minutes or maybe hours passed in Billy’s mind before Steve seemed to roll off of him, though he didn’t go far. Those hands were still on him but not as desperate, just resting, settled on what it felt like reaching—his thigh slippery with come, his stomach, his upper arm, his hair. He didn’t pay it much mind but mostly because he couldn’t, his whole body shuddering with exhaustion. All that mattered was that he’d sought pleasure out as far as his body could take him and that Steve was there. That he loved him and he wouldn’t leave again. Pinky promise. 

He felt something closing on his ankle, wrapping around it like a slick hand. It was hard to see, too hard to keep his eyes open, but his brain reasoned with him gently. Steve was just putting his clothes back on for him, the amount of hands he could feel probably a figment of his imagination and nothing more. Then there came a tugging sensation like something was testing his weight and seemed satisfied, pulling him down, down, down. All he could do for a second was yawn and sigh sleepily, a high and sated sound in the back of his throat. 

“See you,” he said dreamily, fingertips dragging over Steve’s leg before he was too far away, watching the room disappear and curling up, caught in a nice dream.  
***

Steve wasn’t sure why he was rolling off of Billy, but he found himself on the floor of the tent – slippery and making ‘shushing’ sounds beneath him as he wiggled, trying to find a comfortable spot on the unforgiving tiles beneath.

He kept hearing weird noises, slithery sounds, but they faded in and out of his dreams with the constant feeling of ‘chasechasechase.’ He heard that shushy sound again, more prominent this time, that sound that only tents made – a long, dragging sound across the swishy fabric. Steve blinked blearily as he tipped his head up, groggily staring at Billy sliding past him on his back. Just moving along. Steve’s hair stuck up at all sorts of wild angles as he tipped his head, frowning a little as Billy’s fingertips brushed along his leg. Saying ‘see you’.

“Um….bye?” Steve frowned after him, before settling back down on the tent floor, snuffling and rubbing at his nose, curling up – it was sorta cold…why was Billy going…wait…where was he going? Steve slowly blinked himself awake again, trying to get himself sitting up. 

“B…Billy?” He whispered, but all that came out was a shushy sound like the tent. He’d almost completely lost his voice. Billy was nowhere to be seen. 

The pink in the air was dissipating. Steve staggered to his feet, tugging his shorts up and stumbling out of the tent. Everything absolutely spun like he was on The Sizzler at the fair again with Billy, throwing their hands up and screaming as everything became a brilliant blur. He almost fell flat on his face, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes, his legs trembling like a baby fawns. Barely keeping him up. He stumbled against the wall, hanging onto it for support as he made it into the hallway.  
***

Billy kicked his left leg weakly to get Steve’s fingers off it but he seemed determined and Billy, well, he wasn’t going to interrupt. He pulled his shorts back up with clumsy fingers and only got to the zipper before his hands fell away weakly. Too much work and it didn’t even matter. He was moving though not on his own but as long as he kept his eyes closed it felt good, nice and sweet and comforting—

The sound that came out of him when his eyes weakly opened was one of terror, hoarse in his ears, frantic like a trapped animal gravely injured. The flower was open now, sharp, barbed teeth on each petal and a cavernous hole in the middle. The way it was tugging him was slow and deliberate but he couldn’t move quick enough, could just barely turn to lay on his stomach and try to crawl away. 

His breathing picked up again until it was a harsh pant but there was no pleasure here, the cloudiness in his brain dissipating at a painfully slow pace. He could hear the frantic squeak of his fingers, of his limbs on the tile and the loud sigh of the flower. Like it had been waiting, and a long time too.  
***

Steve was trying his best not to eat shit, knees trembling as he clung to the wall, popping his head out into the hallway to look around, dazed. For some reason he had it in his head that maybe Billy had slid away - ? – to take a piss. Or something. Something harmless. Like everything was good here. 

Nothing could be bad. But that feel-good shit in his brain, fluffy endorphins and champagne bubbles popped rapidly as his head jerked back on his neck. He almost fell again, knees buckling. 

The faceless flower had opened up, and it was almost like he’d feared before – feared deep in the recesses of his mind, and tried to ignore. That fucking flower face. Rows upon rows of hungry, eager, jagged shark teeth. The face of his dreams, with a deep, red, endless mullet at the center, waiting to swallow him whole. Or in this case – Billy. Billy was being dragged toward the demogorgon-esque pod on the wall, like a lamb for the slaughter, vines twisted at his ankle.

“No no no no no – “ Steve gasped, but his voice came out as nothing but air. His fingers convulsed against the wall as Billy inched towards the thing – twisting around to grasp at the tiles, but they just slid against his fingertips like nothing. Steve’s knees almost buckled again, but a surge of worn-out adrenaline was at least buzzing a little life into his veins – fear pumping his heart up high, fast, and he was trying to think. Think think think. Think, Harrington, think! Flowers, tunnels, vines, demogorgon….fire. Steve’s zippo. He didn’t have it, he didn’t, but – holy shit. 

“HOLD ON!” Steve tried shouting at Billy, gesturing at him, but it was only a hoarse ghost of the words as he ducked back into the room.  
***

Billy watched Steve move into his sight and then abruptly out of it, all of the fuzzy and sugar sweet feelings bleeding away immediately. Replaced by a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, an all encompassing dread as he scrambled for purchase on the tiles, fingers sweaty and catching on nothing. Steve was—gone, and Billy wasn’t dreaming, this wasn’t a nightmare he’d ever had before. It was real. 

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, eyes wide and fixed on the empty doorway, panic making his heart jackrabbit against his chest until it hurt. His knife was—still by the tent, there was nothing he could do. He tried again, like maybe Steve would remember, like it wasn’t just part of that saccharine dream from earlier. “Please don’t go.”  
***

Steve snatched up the propane heater from the floor where it’d been heating their tiny patient room – the flame was burning low, running out of juice, but it was still there. Miraculously. Steve hung onto the handle and leaned heavily against the wall to get himself back out of the room, limbs like total noodles, jello at best. He had to get Billy away first – that was the first thing, or he’d be too close to the fire damage. Steve tried to stay on his feet as he broke away from the safety net of the wall, bare feet squeaking across the tiles and black oily residue all across it, like liquid mold. 

He scrambled closer to Billy, legs skittering under him like an off balance calf before he promptly smacked onto his ass on the tile, sliding towards Billy, the heater swinging madly from his hand – held out from his body. With the other arm, he gathered Billy up into his arms, dragging him back into his lap - against his chest. Fingers shaking so badly he almost couldn’t grip his shirt at all, hauling him backwards, but the vines were insistent. They fought him, tugging Billy harder now, and Steve – he felt about as competent as a two year old. His strength was gone. 

A frustrated sound whined in the back of Steve’s throat as he groaned, the pads of his feet shoving at the tiles to try and push them both backwards. They slid back a little, just a ways, and he kept trying. Desperately clinging to Billy’s chest as he kept him in the V of Steve’s legs, fighting the pull of the vines. Winning inch by inch, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw creaked. It was only possible from the burn of adrenaline in his veins, the panicked gallop of his heart. 

The petals of the flower rattled like a venomous thing, like one of those dinosaurs with the shaking collars around its neck. Like a warning. Then it screeched at him like a goddamn demogorgon, spraying spittle, this horrible sound that Steve had heard before he’d lit that fucker up at the Byers. Like de-ja-vu. Steve got them up against the wall, trying to shield Billy with his arms before he chucked the propane heater into the waiting maw of the demo-flower.  
***

Billy curled up as tightly as he could and threw his arms up over his head, eyes screwed shut as he listened to the sound of something imploding. That was as closely as he could describe it, and then it was like nothing he’d ever heard. An absolute fucking death rattle, an alien scream that made his ears ring before there was another sound—flesh, or whatever the plant was made of. The instant it exploded he felt a splash of pain over his other arm, his shins, burning right through his socks. The kind of pain that made him scream through his teeth but stay curled up, fingers white knuckled as they formed fists. 

After a minute of more or less silence he put his shaking arms down and saw what he’d expected...kind of. It was a mess of red and black and green pulp, the floor beneath them covered in the pink spores. They didn’t burn right through like the thing’s blood but it stung like a sunburn every time he touched the ground and he knew they needed to get up. Get out. 

He reached down and wrenched the vine from around his ankle, still in a death grip so tight he was sure his ankle must’ve been twisted by the force of it. It didn’t matter though, it just mattered that he got it off, pulled it down until it lay motionless on the sticky tile. Then he turned around to face Steve, eyes wide and thankful, arms around his shoulders in an instant, refusing to budge as he hugged him.  
***

Steve had twisted Billy up against the wall, laying him over Steve’s left thigh as he’d tried to put as much of his body between Billy and the flower before the heater made contact. Pressing their foreheads together, breathing hard as he flinched wildly at the sounds coming from behind him, like an actual, very real explosion. Like they were in an Arnold Schwarzenegger film. 

Steve hissed through clenched teeth as something hot washed across the backs of his shoulder blades. It honestly took him a second to fully register it – kind of like when you burnt yourself on the stove, and you could see the skin starting to redden, but it took a moment for the pain to come. Like that. He hadn’t been able to get them far enough. 

Steve felt burning bits and ash touching down elsewhere, flecking his arms where he’d pressed Billy up flat to the wall, palms against the rotting plaster, and in the fray of his hair. But the wash of pain over his upper back dulled them, like pinpricks in comparison. He vaguely realized he’d left his jacket back in the tent, sometime when he’d gotten too hot during...well. 

When the otherworldly screaming stopped, lifting all the hairs on Steve’s body up on end, and the primary heat of the roaring flames had started to fizzle out, he pulled away from Billy, tenderly drawing his arms back to his sides, fingers quivering as he didn’t really register anything Billy was doing. After a moment, the pain dulled, faded to nothing but a sort of heartbeat along the curve of his spine - it didn’t feel like anything. Steve was fine. Just...cold. Which was pretty weird with the fire...but he was fine.

At least until Billy was wrapping his arms around Steve, hugging him tight. Steve jerked at the touch, making a choked sound as he rocked back in Billy’s arms, eyes rolling back as he almost bit his tongue. His back lighting up like the Fourth of July, and not in a good way.  
***

Billy recoiled a bit and grimaced, looking at Steve’s arms with a sympathetic sound. He shuffled back and hissed when the pollen on the ground hit his thighs, instantly pushing himself to stand on shaky legs. He reached out to help Steve up by the hands, fairly certain it was the only place that wouldn’t be flecked with another kind of paintbrush altogether. 

“Let’s—here,” he rasped, walking them hand in hand until they reached the tent. He let himself sit back down for a second then, picking up his converse and shoving barely socked feet into them with unsteady fingers. “Go? Where?”  
***

Steve sat down heavily in the tent, his back protesting when he slouched, spine curling forward as he stared up blankly at Billy. He sounded like he was talking through mud. He shivered and dumbly folded his hands in his lap and frowned down at them instead, wincing at the movement of his arms. He didn’t really answer.

He didn’t want to go anywhere. He wanted to stay in the tent. Eleven would come and rescue them. His back didn’t feel right, like maybe it was fucked up, but he couldn’t see it. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t feel right. He’d wait here and they would come and get them and it would be okay. He closed his eyes and sat there for a second, trying to gather himself.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah. I don’t - I don’t know. Will said - Will said the lab. This is where they’ll look for us. Babe - I think, can you - look at my back? ‘S it ok?”  
***

“Okay, we’ll just—yeah, okay,” Billy said, trying to sound soothing, crouching down next to Steve with his hands carefully at his own sides. He couldn’t help but feel something hopeful run through him at the endearment, that it was still there even without the air filled with pink spores. “I’ll look, I’ll look.”

When he scooted himself behind Steve he let out a hiss of sympathy, instantly reaching for the first aid supplies Steve had opened up. It didn’t look good—maybe not life threatening, but definitely not good. That soft, freckled skin was mottled with second degree burns, not really possible to cover with gauze. 

“It looks like my arm, but it looks okay. Here, it’s gonna sting,” he said softly, rummaging until he could find something antibacterial to pat down the skin with. He tried to ignore Steve’s obvious discomfort, found a few large, square pieces of gauze he could at least tape in place. “There, I think that’s about as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Okay, we’ll just—yeah, okay,” Billy said, trying to sound soothing, crouching down next to Steve with his hands carefully at his own sides. He couldn’t help but feel something hopeful run through him at the endearment, that it was still there even without the air filled with pink spores. “I’ll look, I’ll look.”  
***

Steve let out a sound like air out of a balloon through his teeth when Billy cleaned up his back and patched it up as best as he could, blinking and trying to think through the haze of his mind. He still felt too weak – worse than before, even, now that the adrenaline was petering out of his system. 

“Okay. Okay. Thanks.” He tried again to clear his thoughts, his voice whispy and not all there. “I don’t….what the fuck just happened? What the hell WAS that? I dunno where to go. I have no idea. This place, this was my best idea, being here, because Will said – and if they’re looking, they’ve gotta know where we are.” 

Steve...could not even begin to fathom everything that had happened. Honestly he’d thought it was a dream while it was happening. Something not quite real. But it was real. He had no idea how long they’d been fucking. Had Billy even wanted him to? The thought made his stomach lurch sickeningly. He thought of himself on the couch, wasted, and Billy taking him to the car. Keeping watch over him. Telling him he’d wished somebody had done it for him. Jesus. They really needed to talk.  
***

Billy reached for Steve’s jacket and helped him into it, careful to zip it up nice and slow before grabbing his shirt and slipping it on. He glanced at the open doorway and thought of what was in various pieces on the floor out there. The way it had sighed, waited for Billy to be incoherent. The smell of the spores in the air, sweet and perfect and like Steve. 

“I think it was some kind of—it makes things—mate. Then kills them, maybe. I could see it drooling,” he said slowly, avoiding Steve’s eyes for a moment. “I—did you want it? At all?”

He couldn’t really imagine what he might do if Steve said no, though he wouldn’t blame him. It was just...the idea of it. Of being rejected another time and never quite catching on. But Steve had said ‘babe,’ had cradled him and kept him safe.  
***

Steve eased into the jacket, grateful for the help, although the fabric rubbed wherever it touched without the bandaging. But at least he wasn’t so cold now. He wished Billy had more. At least they had things now. Space blankets. The tent. Steve rubbed over his face with one large hand, smoothing over the lines that were forming there as he glanced up at Billy. 

He drew himself up to standing, still shaky, feeling rattled and not quite himself. It makes things – mate. Then what, eats them? Like some carnivorous flower, Steve remembered about them learning about some in the amazon like that. Made sweet smells to lure in small animals, birds, bugs, to their deaths. 

“Jesus….like what? A Venus flytrap on steroids? It…that’s what the face of the demogorgon looked like. That monster I told you about before. But like, bigger, obviously.” Steve chewed on a nail as he looked away uneasily at Billy’s question. He didn’t think Billy was looking at him anyways, though. 

“Look, I – I want to talk about this. I mean, really talk about it. But you’re right. Let’s move first. There’s this office where Will had therapy – maybe we can go there. With our luck, that thing can like...regenerate or something. I wanna get us away from it, then we can talk? Is it ok?”  
***

Billy nodded and tasked himself with folding up the space blankets the best that he could, shoving everything back into the bags that they came in. He let Steve handle the tent and finally stood, following Steve out to the main room. That thing had nearly killed him, nearly fucking eaten him. He was tired and dreading their conversation and he should’ve been conserving energy but—

He dropped the bags onto the floor and upended a table, gritting his teeth and wrenching one of the legs until it came off with a pop, probably loosened by whatever had hit this room before the Venus flytrap on steroids. He looked into the pile of carnage like he might’ve been able to see that thing’s face again, all those teeth and gave it a good swing. Then a few more. Then more after that.  
***

Steve had no idea where Billy got the energy – honestly, he didn’t. Though, he guessed, Steve had been the one doing the actual fucking, so, maybe he’d been a little more depleted. But he figured he could try to dredge up a little more fuel, as he set the bags down next to Billy’s, and broke off another leg with a snap. He gave it a good spin around, testing the weight, flipping it around by the handle like it was a baseball bat. He came up behind Billy to thwap the meaty, pulpy mess good. Swinging alongside Billy like they were really on the same team again. 

The motherfucker was already dead, but there was nothing wrong with getting in a couple good last hits – and he wanted to help Billy. Letting loose some viscous fluid that was leaking out of the thing, but it didn’t burn like the blood of the vines before. It felt like when they’d keyed Tommy’s car after the lockers incident, easily in sync, perfectly vindictive, and entirely necessary. Even with his back burning and screaming in protest. Worth it.

But Steve was definitely more than ready to sleep after. They finally made it to that one Doctor guys dilapidated office – Steve couldn’t remember his name – the guy who seemed kinda shifty, but Hopper said he was good people underneath the shady exterior. There was a leather sofa that was actually still in pretty decent shape. 

Once they got the tent set back up, Steve sat down on the edge of the lounge – the kind you saw in movies where somebody’d lay down to spill their hearts to the shrink. It figured that guy’d have one of these. Steve wrapped the silver blanket around himself, sighing with exhaustion and dark circles under his eyes, nodding at Billy while he patted the seat next to him like an invitation. Offering a ration packet as he fiddled with his own. Trying his best not to let his nerves get the better of him.  
***

Billy sat down slowly and accepted the packet, chewing a bit on his cheek. He didn’t know how much space there needed to be between them or how much Steve wanted but he’d patted the spot fairly close so—maybe. His free hand tried to wrap a silver blanket of his own but he mostly gave up, so tired from everything, so sore that it didn’t really matter. 

“If you didn’t—if it was just that thing,” he said, pausing to eat something largely unidentifiable. Slowly like Steve had said before. “Can you just tell me? So I can make an asshole out of myself now? Get it over with before we both kick the can?”  
***

Steve nibbled at some kind of green sludge from the packet that tasted like cardboard – not good like before. He just felt zapped, like nothing would taste good every again. Actually, if he was being honest…in the wake of how he’d felt with that pollen surging through his system, everything felt…less. Like he’d been seeing color and now it was just black and white again. If he wasn’t so tired he might actually be worried. But he glanced up at Billy in something like surprise at the comment about making an asshole out of himself. Like it would be bad. 

Steve – Steve didn’t think it was bad, persay. Maybe not. But yeah, Kick the can. They’d almost died. Mostly Billy. But death was a very real thing here – waiting around every corner. It wasn’t some ominous red dot anymore. It was everywhere.

“I…shit, Billy. I mean – of course it was that thing.” Steve let out a long breath, rubbing the side of his face as he chewed, swallowing the tasteless gruel with a grimace.

“I…I don’t know. It felt like I was forcing you. Like I just, just fucking sprung it on you. I’d never…never want to make you feel like that. Like you don’t have a choice. Like we’re ‘mating’ until we die kind of…thing…” Steve raised large, dark eyes up to Billy – just regular, washed out chocolate now instead of pupil blown insanity. Tired, but earnest. 

“But you’re right, you’re right, we might just kick it here. And I should have talked with you about this sooner, but I thought, if we got rescued sooner…” Steve shifted on the leather, making it squeak like an ancient thing. Reaching out a tentative hand to brush his fingertips against Billy’s bare thigh, like a question. “‘cause if you’re asking if I wanted it? To be with you? God, of course I did. I never stopped wanting to.”  
***

Billy looked down at the hand on his leg and could swear the hair on the back of his neck stood up. It was like relief but magnified a million times over, like everything made sense. Even in the face of flowers with teeth and falling through a cavern hidden right under their feet. Even in the face of this...not world they were in now. 

“Well, then you shouldn’t stop at all,” he said finally, covering the hand with his own, squeezing it tight to make his point and looking up at Steve. His Steve, even if he’d shoved him away, told him he didn’t want him. His Steve who’d saved him more than once. “You shouldn’t because I don’t want you to.”  
***

Steve gave a weak, faltering smile as Billy wrapped their hands up together, telling him not to stop. "I won’t. I won’t stop. I meant it. Everything I said, last…night? Whenever that was…I meant it. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know exactly what Max told you, but, I only did it because I was trying to keep you safe. But in here, if we’re gonna die anyways, well…there’s no point to any of that bullshit. There just isn’t. There maybe wasn’t to begin with, but I didn’t know how else to fix it. If we are gonna die in here – I want you to know how much I love you. How much I’ll always love you.” 

He tightened up his hand within Billy’s dry, rough one, before scooting a little closer on the leather upholstery until their hips bumped together. Close enough that Steve could lean in – with just enough distance to brush the tips of their noses together, dark lashes lowering, glancing down in the direction of Billy’s mouth. “Was worried…you might not want me back.” He murmured.  
***

Billy kept his lips closed but couldn’t keep the little sob that escaped him, too tired, too dehydrated to really cry. He took in a deep breath or at least tried to, hitting just before the point that he knew would need him into a coughing fit. His eyes closed too, face screwed up in something like happiness and pain all at once. Not want him back?

“Please—don’t go, you can’t,” he whispered, their foreheads touching along with the tips of their noses, so close but still never quite enough. “I always want you. I’ll always want you. Every year, anytime.”  
***

Steve reached up with his free hand to grab at the front of Billy’s shirt, holding on loosely to the fabric like he was trying to pull him closer, closer, sharing wheezing breath, eyes closed. Voice breaking. Tangling his fingers up in dirty, stained cotton. 

“I won’t go. I won’t. Not even if we do get out of here– never. I’m here. Every year. Anytime. We just….we have to figure out a different solution. I couldn’t do it on my own. I tried. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry I hurt you. I love you so much. I tried – tried to let you know. I kept, kept sending those stupid coupons. Like, some kind of code or something. To let you know.”  
***

Billy nodded and let out something between a laugh and another sob, did it over and over again until it turned frantic, giddy. He wrapped his other arm around Steve’s shoulders, careful of his back, and pulled until their legs were tangled up. He’d remembered them, he’d kept them. When they got back he’d show Steve—if they got back. 

“Steve, I love you. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou,” he said quickly, speaking it into every inch of Steve he could reach. Frantic really meant just less sluggish, the exhaustion making its attempts at weighing him down worse and worse every second. “I have them, I still—“

He had to move back an inch or two because he hadn’t escaped the coughing, doubled over with his head bumped into Steve’s chest as they racked his body. His ribs ached with each cough and it was some mix of dry and absolutely wet, lungs rattling and stomach spamming as though in protest. 

“Don’t feel good.”  
***

Steve had curled around Billy, chin atop his head as Billy coughed into his chest, rubbing a hand over his back. Face screwed up in frustration where Billy couldn’t see it – wishing he could pull whatever that sound was from Billy’s lungs, whatever caused it. He didn’t know – didn’t know if it was the air, maybe the cold, or if it was the lack of water, but it sounded like when Steve got really sick in winter and he couldn’t cough the shit out of his lungs. 

Billy loved him, he still loved him, he’d kept the coupons. They loved each other, but love didn’t save people, it wasn’t a miracle cure. Steve kissed the top of Billy’s lackluster curls with cracking lips.

“I know. I know, baby, me too. I – hang on, let me get the fabric again…I don’t know if it’s even helping. But it’s worth a shot. C’mon, let’s go lay down.” 

Steve drew Billy back to the tent as the worst of the coughing seemed to be over, tucking the space blanket around him better. He tied the triangles of torn up t-shirt around their faces again. He’d forgotten them before. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten, but he had. He was tired. He wasn’t thinking straight. Steve wiped at his runny nose, coughing only a little but not as bad as Billy as he zipped the tent up. Lay down beside him. He curled them up beneath the space blankets, nosing against Billy’s stubbled cheek.  
***

Billy sniffled and tried to curl closer, distantly aware that he was shaking, that they both were. It wasn’t cold enough to make their teeth chatter in here but somehow he could still feel it and hear it. Like their bodies were finally forcing them to be still—as still as that kind of coughing could make you. He didn’t want to admit it and he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. 

But he was scared. 

It seemed like he didn’t need to say it because he heard something else a moment later, something else that would’ve made him cry if he’d been able to. Humming. Steve was humming like he had in the bathtub that day. Billy had pictured it over the past month like some invisible security blanket and he had it now. Even if it meant things were bad he still had it.  
***

That wasn’t the last night, or time, Steve hummed some song by Tears for Fears or Old Time Rock ‘n Roll or even I wanna know what love is to try and lighten the mood. But after the next day, he couldn’t get the sound out anymore. Words, either. 

His throat was too dry, the world had gone too still, and so had they. The same rattling, body shaking coughs had started to afflict Steve, both of them with runny noses and clammy skin, and Steve was pretty sure – a while later, he didn’t know how long, that they were both growing feverish. It wasn’t long until he had the chills, chills that made him shake, so, so cold, even though he knew his skin was on fire. 

And they were curled up in this sort of feverish, messy bundle in the tent, where he wasn’t sure where one of them ended and one of them began, a mess of arms and legs and the silver foil of the blanket. At some point he remembered getting up to try and get Billy to eat something, but there wasn’t spit in either of them to get much down. But that didn’t seem to stop him from yacking up this sickly green, rotten mucus.

Everything grew even more hellish after that. Like a nightmare. A fever dream, a true one. At some point, figures in hazmat suits were there, lights in the helmets, and Steve remembered spasming because oh god, he was in the movie ET and the government goons were going to try and test how Elliot was connected to ET but they couldn’t be separated, they belonged together, his Billy, and he’d tried to fight them – fight those government bastards – but he’d been too weak, too weak, head lolling, eyes rolling as he tried to fight back. Arms twitching like a dead bug on it’s back. After that time seemed to skip, jumping forward. They’d taken his Billy, he was sure, and he needed to get him back.

The next thing he became aware of, slowly, as if he were underwater, was the steady beep-a-beep of some kind of machine. Beep-beep, beep-beep, he wished it would stop it already. He vaguely thought it might be his alarm, yammering at him to get up, he’d be late for school. But he didn’t, couldn’t, move. His arms felt so heavy, legs too, and his head…it was like his head weighed a million trillion pounds. Had he been drinking? Maybe he was hungover. He felt hungover. 

But when he breathed, he felt something rattling in his lungs, something that vibrated his chest with each breath in. Like he had some kinda liquid in his lungs. Maybe he was sick, instead. Either way, he felt badly disoriented, aching everywhere like he’d been hit by a damn truck.

It felt like there was a slab of lead atop him, binding him down, and he could feel a throb of pain in his shoulder blades with each pass of his heartbeat. Something was wrong. Steve’s lashes fluttered, and the light was too bright, too bright, made him wince, try to close his eyes again – those were heavy, too. There was some kind of fluorescent lighting bearing down on him, blinding, so overwhelmingly brilliant like the fucking sun was staring into his soul. 

Steve let out a dry sound of distress, arms tring to lift, block it out, and he felt something tug at his forearm, like a burr in his skin.  
***

Billy thought he might’ve died, that maybe this was just what the rest of his existence was. Darkness and sounds he didn’t think he recognized, a vast nothing. Thin memories at the fringes of his mind—Steve humming until he couldn’t. The sound of both of them coughing, making feeble attempts to speak that never quite came to fruition. I love you was unspoken but goodbye hadn’t been something he’d wanted to consider. Maybe he should’ve. 

Maybe he was all alone with nothing and Steve was gone and so was he. His cheeks were a little damp and—

Cheeks, he had cheeks. Eyes too because he opened them just barely, gasping while he took everything in. A plastic tent surrounded his bed and his lungs felt wrong, his ankle painful but impossible to see under pristine, white blankets. He turned his head with some difficulty and saw Steve, Steve and burst into tears. Whatever was in his IV made it easier for him to do, tears in his eyes for the first time in—he didn’t know. He reached out toward Steve but couldn’t quite touch, still tried as he took him in. Too small, too pale, but breathing.  
***

Steve heard the sound of someone crying. He stirred beneath the leaden cover above him, trying to get his eyes to freaking open, figure out what the hell was going on, but he was so confused about why it was so hard to tell his body what to do, to wake up, to move. When he finally dragged his eyelids open after this eternal struggle, he winced up into the demon lights above him. He needed to check on who was crying, if they were okay… 

There were no plaid walls here. No familiarity – the walls weren’t walls, they looked like…like they were in a tent. Tent. A tent. A – Steve’s eyes widened infinitesimally as his heart rate monitor skyrocketed, his breath abruptly picking up into a panicked staccato. They’d been in the tent. On the other side. Everything came rushing back at him, attacking him with flashes of memory and broken thoughts and the final maddening, feverish hodgepodge at the end. When he’d thought they were going to die. Holding one another. 

“Billy?” He tried to call, but all that came out was a croaky sound as he tried to push the perfectly tucked in white blanket atop him, but it truly was like lead, and he couldn’t seem to lift it. All he could really do was move his head, tipping it drunkenly to the side to search out the sound of tears. 

He immediately found comfort beside him. Billy was alongside him, in the next bed. Not in the upside down, not dead, but here. Pale, shaken, shrunken and crying, but safe. And there was light here. They were safe. They were home. Oh god they were home. Steve mouthed his name at him again, a hoarse sound of air, and he finally worked his arm out from under the blanket with military corners to reach through the metal support bar. Trembling fingers extended, blindly searching for Billy’s hand midair. The IV tube swung wildly as Steve’s own tears slid down his temple, trying for a shaky, thankful smile like it was a foreign concept.  
***

Billy reached and reached but couldn’t quite touch their fingers together, a sort of righteous indignation rearing up in him. They’d been in hell for he didn’t know how long. They’d gotten fucking poison darts shot at them and fell through the ground. They’d nearly died together and Billy couldn’t—wouldn’t let them be apart. Fuck the government and fuck the hospital bed. 

He twisted in his bed and immediately felt his mistake, pain shooting up his ankle and his ribs. He gritted his teeth and kept twisting, moving painfully slow until he was laying on his side and feeling thankful he at least didn’t have to lean on his burnt arm. The uninjured one reached and reached and finally they touched, Billy lacing their fingers together as tightly as he could. 

“Hi, hi,” he rasped, more tears joining the rest on his face, the relief more palpable than ever.  
***

Steve knew he was lying down, but he sagged in relief all the same, his lower lip trembling as their fingers became interwoven, tight, tight together, connected all the way up to the knuckles. Steve let out a gaspy breath, his lashes fluttering as he kept those large, dark eyes on Billy, not taking them off of him, not for a second, because if he did he might go away. Like a dream, or a ghost.

A tear slid down his temple as he kept his head craned towards Billy - and Steve didn’t remember the last time he’d had enough moisture for that. Crying. The hospital pillow was scratchy against his cheek like it had been starched, and it was too bright in this place, but Billy was here, so everything was gonna be fine. They’d been through worse. He had wiggled as close to the bars as he could, even if it made his IV pull and his shoulders protest. The beds were way too far apart.

“Hey, baby.” Steve was mouthing at him, eyes crinkling at the corners with a wobbly, uneven, teary smile. Like he couldn’t believe it was true. He was still only forming voiceless air, but the sentiment was there, he thought Billy knew. “Love you.”  
***

Billy smiled back and gave Steve’s hand a weak squeeze, pressing his cheek into the pillow and curling up the best he could. It was like sleeping next to each other—if you ignored the beeping and the whole plastic tent and almost at death’s door thing. Speaking of beeping, Steve’s heart monitor was going wild and come to think of it, so was his. Probably enough to get someone’s attention, though he didn’t know exactly who’s. 

“Government?” he asked hoarsely, glancing at what he assumed was the doorway of the tent. “Bad Men?”  
***

Momentarily distracted from the euphoria of being alive and Billy being alive and being alive together, well, Steve finally forced himself to drag his eyes away from the apple of his eye. His gaze wandered their close, private, plastic enclave as he gave a focused blink, trying to make everything sit still. He gave a few dry swallows then glanced back at Billy.

He gave a short half nod, this jerky little confirmation. It was funny how quickly you picked up on things like government, bad men, and now Billy could play the dangerous game too. It was easy not to jump to the conclusion of a normal hospital. The quarantine-esque surroundings confirmed that. 

Whoever had them, they knew where they’d been. What might have come back with them. Like with Will. Belching up slugs or whatever nastiness he’d had inside of him, and – well. They were probably taking more precautions this time around, that was for sure. Steve flinched at a sudden thought, his heart rate monitor thrumming higher. 

What if they did bring something back? Hopper had said Will had had some kind of tube down his throat. Steve only had a hazy, at best, recollection of those last few days. His free hand involuntarily twitched to his throat, as if he could feel the ghost of some kind of alien impregnation tube stuck there. But he wouldn’t even know, he guessed.

A door swung open, making the tent swish. Steve’s eyes widened as his fingers convulsed in Billy’s, blinking any remaining tears away, lashes damp as he tried to sit up. 

“Woah woah now Mr. Harrington, no need to get up on my account.” Dr. Owens voice was recognizable through the hazmat suit he was wearing as he came into the tent, gesturing with heavily gloved white hands to ‘slow his roll’. “Good to see you boys awake. You thirsty? Hungry? How you feelin’?” 

“Where’s Hopper?” Steve tried to say, but it was just a whisper at best. He attempted to clear his throat to no avail. “H – HO – pper. Wh-r’s, Hopper?” He was still barely audible, sounding like he’d swallowed sand paper, gaunt face screwing up with effort.  
***

Billy heard the word Hopper out of Steve’s mouth and looked at the man he was speaking to, eyebrows furrowing and pale face stiff. He looked harmless but in a way that didn’t sit well with him, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Unassuming men were ones that filled him with the most dread, like Neil’s nuclear family smile. Nauseating. 

“Not to worry boys, he’s on his way,” Dr. Owens said, sitting gingerly on the end of Steve’s bed with his arms folded, small smile on his face. “However, it looks like you might need to sit tight here another couple of days. We’d just like to make sure that you’re all healthy and, well, stable enough to venture outside again. There will of course be a few things to sign and some statements we’d like to go over but I can’t tell you how relieved we are that you’ve come out the other side.”

“Not without Hopper,” Billy said through his teeth, imagining Steve’s face when he’d come out of the funhouse before—before. “Not without him.”  
***

“Well you know, I’m sure he wouldn’t have it any other way. Have you met the man?” Owens chuckled to himself like he’d made a funny, patting Steve’s knee under the blankets. 

It made Steve wanna cringe away, but he was tucked in to death – he just didn’t know the old dude, even if Hop said he was good enough people, but not to entirely be trusted, either. Even if Will liked him alright, talked to him about shit or whatever, but Will was just a kid. Steve didn’t trust any of these lab whacks, he never would, he didn’t care. If he was Will he wouldn’t have told this smiley old dude shit. 

“Now who do you think was the one who found you? Him and that lady friend of his. They’ve been here all the time, but you know, we’ve had to keep you under until you started to recuperate a bit. You were in pretty poor shape, boys. He had to go home and take care of that kid of his.” He winked at Steve on the word ‘kid.’ Yeah, Steve knew about Owens deal with Hopper. How he’d helped with the paperwork for El. He knew that had won a lot of brownie points with Hopper – but he wondered if that had been part of the purpose of it. Winning Hopper over. Just a little. Just enough. 

“H-Hopper got us out? ‘n Mrs. B-yers?” 

“The very same. But you know, I shooed them off. Let them get a little rest. Freshen up. We’ve already given them a call to let them know you’re up!” He clapped his gloves together once with a muffled sound.

Steve thought about that, his brain clicking ,but everything felt slow and fuzzy. He’d said they’d been keeping them under. What, like a fake coma? He’d seen those on TV, like when his mom watched Days of Our Lives or whatever. And what – what, now that Hopper had finally left…now they woke them up? It must have been on purpose that they’d woken at the same time. Alone, without allies.  
***

Billy kept his hand in Steve’s and tried to watch for anything on the man’s face that could help. Anything like their principal or Steve’s dad, some kind of sign that this guy was a certifiable piece of shit. He knew it without a doubt but he just didn’t know how, figured it had something to do with whoever ended up putting a fucking laser sight on him. Whoever ripped them from each other. 

“He needs water,” he said, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him, voice not very audible but still managing to sound unimpressed. 

“Of course of course,” Owens replied, waving a hand goodnaturedly and smiling about the same. “Would you boys mind—we’d like to figure out how this happened. Do you have any recollection of smells, sounds? It would be more helpful than you know.”

The man’s voice gave Billy pause because it sounded—hungry. He shrunk back a bit at the tone and curled his lip, holding Steve’s hand tighter still. 

“Water,” he said, watching Dr. Owens hold his hands up as though in some kind of surrender, zipping the tent open and letting himself be thoroughly checked outside before wandering off. “Not getting water.”  
***

It settled on Steve slow, like cold water, when he saw how Owen’s eye would catch on their clasped hands – just on occasion, like this glancing sort of look. Like his eyes would slide there and then away, like he wasn’t really looking. He remembered telling Billy – before – in the beginning of the end, on the other side, that it didn’t change anything, on the tracks. 

When they got out – it didn’t change anything. They were still in the same shitshow as before. And they were literally in the belly of the vipers that had sent the hitman after Billy in the first place – those people that had assaulted Steve at his work, at his house, by his car at Bradleys. In the funhouse.

But here they were, lying here, defiantly holding hands despite their whole break up deal. Owens had to be aware of it. Right? Was he a part of it? Could he be? Nancy had said that Owens was the one who had shown up when they were locked in that windowless room. Like some kind of ringleader, even if he acted like the ‘good guy’ about the whole thing. Like he was just trying to help them out to do the right thing. Maybe like they’d been trying to help Steve ‘do the right thing.’ But he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. Steve tightened his grip on Billy’s hand, even as if made the IV snagged in his arm sting like a hornet had landed there.

Steve eyed him with a distrustful glint in deeply hollowed eyes, not removing his hand from Billy’s. He’d told Billy he wouldn’t leave again. He’d told him – that if they made it – they’d have to find some kind of a solution. Because Steve hadn’t been able to. 

At Owens question, Steve’s brows knit together. He went still, his brain flashing through a hundred different scenes that he instantly shied away from. It was too fresh. It was too new. He didn’t want to – to bring it back to the surface. He knew if he looked at it too closely he’d totally freak the fuck out. He knew he was probably going to. Once he got home. Once the world started to feel real. Right now, he was still groggy and slow. Weak. But what about the smells – the good and the bad? The good that would haunt his dreams, and the bad that would wake him up screaming? The scent that smelled like perfect Billy but also like burning flower flesh? 

Why did Owens sound so…eager? But after Billy shut him down, fast, the guy was gone. Water wasn’t a ridiculous request. Honestly Steve couldn’t answer shit without it. He’d mostly given up on talking - it hurt his throat and he wasn’t sure he could be understood anyways.

The sound of the zipper came again as the ‘door’ zipped open and new guys in hazmat suits stepped in. For a wild minute, Steve thought it was Owens and maybe somebody with water – a nurse? Something. But it wasn’t Owens, and it wasn’t a nurse. They just had manila envelopes. They headed towards them wielding pens and packets.

“While Dr. Owens is getting some things for you, he asked that we make sure to get this taken care of. It’s your standard NDA. You understand.” One of the faceless guys said. “Then he’ll bring water.”

The masks of these suits were tinted, reflecting only Billy and Steve’s pale, hollowed out faces back at them like silver mirrors. Their words echoed from inside the suits. Steve got a sick twist in his stomach as he remembered his cheek smacking up against a mirror, fast breath fogging the glass, the bite of a gun at his back. 

His fingers tightened up inside of Billy’s until one of the men brushed their arms aside to get in between them, the suits making them bulky, taking up space. Steve’s arm fell away limply – he didn’t have the energy to keep it up when they bustled by. His heart rate monitor started to skyrocket again, a dead give away, along with the sour scent of fear. Throwing a panicked look at Billy.  
***

Billy’s stomach must’ve dropped right out, that must’ve been it. There was a pit there now though it wasn’t filling with fear. No, it was different than that. It was outrage at the possibility of any of these men having seen Steve before, having hurt him somehow. The possibility of them being directly responsible, and the way their hands were forced to disconnect wasn’t lost on him. 

“Go fuck yourself,” he hissed, fingers curling into a fist with nothing to hold in it. He wanted to reach out, even tried to once or twice, but the bodies between them were rigid. “I said go fuck yourself. I’m not signing shit and neither is he. It’s not gonna work this fucking time. Do you understand? It’s not.”  
***

“Now Mr. Hargrove, I think you’ll find it’s easiest to cooperate. This is highly dangerous information – humankind isn’t yet equipped to deal with the repercussions of this information. This is about protecting the world, from themselves.”

“’s same bullshit you fed us.” Steve’s voice was only a cracked out whisper, raspy and hardly more than air. “We won’t say shit, Billy won’t say shit – I already signed your papers – leave him out of this -“

“Yes, and this is updated paperwork. You know we had some – issues, arise, with your previous paperwork. And he’s already involved now. No thanks to you.” Steve twisted in the starched white sheets – they felt more like they were holding him down again, like he couldn’t get away. He needed to get him and Billy out of here, but he couldn’t even lift the blanket. “And Mr. Hargrove still needs to understand the gravity of the situation. We suggest you rethink your reply, William.”  
***

“Okay, I’ll rethink it,” Billy said, straightening up until he was on his back again. It didn’t make him any bigger but it at least made everything hurt a fraction less. He thought about it. 

He thought about the first week in their new apartment and how terrible it had been. The way Steve hadn’t even really been there, how isolating his behavior had been. He thought about the guy at the pool standing in front of him and just staring. The black Buick he’d seen a few times outside of the garage. 

He thought about the fair, about Steve shoving him and breaking him into a million tiny pieces. He thought about all the times he’d driven out to the quarry, all the times the toes of his boots settled on the edge of it and all the times he’d scrambled back into the Camaro, terrified of himself. He thought about Steve climbing into the apartment and telling him, begging him to run away with him. 

“Okay, I thought it over,” he said in a measured tone, making a show of smoothing out his blankets until he looked up at the one closest to him. “Go fuck yourselves.”  
***

It wasn’t right right thing to say. Even Steve knew that. He wasn’t surprised by it – if anything, it was one of the things he loved about Billy. His fierce determination, his will, the way he took everything head on and almost always came out top dog. Where Steve might fear something, worry at something, let it get to him, Billy was the one to get up in the face of the problem and say ‘fuck you.’ He wouldn’t let it win. 

But just like before – just like before, Steve couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let Billy be hurt. He couldn’t bear it. And Steve knew these people, knew what they were like, what they’d do, and Billy – Billy didn’t yet. Not really. Steve knew how they hid their cards until the right moment. He thought he’d told Billy – told him at the quarry, how they’d threatened his family, friends, ect. – and it had been clear when that came to fruition with Billy and a death mark on his chest like X marks the spot. It wasn’t the right answer. Even Steve knew that.

He shook his head desperately behind their backs at Billy, his mouth bowing mournfully. As much as he wanted to egg him on, fuck, join him in heckling these motherfuckers - that just couldn’t be an option. The problem, really, was that it was like that hydra that they’d had to read about in English. The one where you cut off on head, three more grew back in its place. They would just keep on coming. 

These government lackeys weren’t the source of the problem. Hell, even Owens wasn’t. Steve didn’t know that you could cut the head off of this snake without spawning more problems - even Brenner was gone, and he’d just been replaced. They were dangerous.

He mouthed at Billy, eyes large and pleading. “Do it. Please do it.” 

“We were afraid you might say that.” Thing #1 said, saying ‘we’ like a total tool. “Can’t say it was what we were hoping for though.”  
***

“So sorry to disappoint you,” Billy sneered, both hands curling into fists against the bed now. The longer he sat there the worse it got, heart monitor starting to tick up, up, up slowly. “It’s a no. N. O. Do you understand?”

He looked at Steve, at his sweet, scared face. He hadn’t even really gotten to look at him when they’d thought—when they’d been sure they were dying, too scared to say it. He’d heard him though, humming low until he couldn’t. Crying until he couldn’t. 

“No, sweetheart,” he said, voice gentler this time, shaking his head. “I don’t care. I don’t care. This is bullshit, we didn’t do anything wrong. Fuck these people.”  
***

Steve thought, in a world where they weren’t weak as newborn calves, on shaky at best legs, half starved and still without water, like some cruel joke…where they could get out of here…where they weren’t easily overpowered, and could run away and not be easily found? There, in that world, Steve thought he could have said to fight it. But there was a reason why all of them, all of them had signed it. Even Hopper. Big tough guy Hopper. Because these guys worried the weak spots out of them, kidnapped them, threatened them, hurt them, threatened others. It wasn’t a game, but Billy seemed to think it was – Steve knew Billy liked games, and he knew he liked to win. It wasn’t a game, wasn’t a game. 

“You don’t understand – “ Steve tried to say, his voice rasping badly, trying to make himself heard. Struggling to sit up now, but these cords were tying him down. It took him a minute to realize he had shit on his head. Little wires attached to his temples, scalp, tugging him back down. What the fuck? “Babe – listen to them – please – please – “

“You should listen to your little boyfriend there.” Thing #1 nodded at Thing #2. “Too bad he has more sense than you. He at least knows how to listen, given enough incentive.” 

Steve froze, nostrils flaring as he tugged frantically at the wires. Trying to free himself. He felt like a rat in a cage. Something bad was about to happen. Why did his fingers feel like they weren’t a part of his body? 

“Leave him alone. Leave him alone!” Steve whisper screamed.

“Let’s see if we can change his mind.” Thing #1 got on Billy’s other side of the bed, grabbing at his arm, man-handling his burnt forearm, while Thing #2 wielded the papers and pen. Gloved fingers were jabbed against angry, red blisters that were just starting to go down, instantly rupturing one. Holding him down to the bed by it.  
***

Billy’s eyes shot wide open—it was worse than getting burnt in the first place. White hot and blinding agony shooting all over his arm and taking the color right out of his face. His jaw went tight, clenched so hard that it was making his teeth creak under the strain. It sprang tears to his eyes instantly from the pain but he didn’t scream, wouldn’t scream for them. 

He breathed harshly through his nose, the tiniest, angriest whimper of pain barely audible through his teeth as he looked up at Thing #1. If anything he got more of a glint in his eye, kept the asshole’s gaze and gritted his teeth harder, refusing to squirm. He could feel another blister pop and swallowed the bile that threatened to surface, heart monitor racing wildly but clearly with no answering nurses in sight. No help was coming.  
***

Steve would be damned, absolutely damned, if they had made it through hell on earth to have Billy actually tortured by some lab coat government goons. He was grabbing onto the bar with shaky hands, his eyes searching for anything – anything he could get his hands on – anything sharp, something blunt, any kind of weapon – but there was nothing. Everything inside of him locked up at the hurt, furious whimper that crept out from behind Billy’s teeth. The race of Billy and Steve’s heart monitors were like they were trying to one up each other, a maddening pulse of sound almost like bees it was so consistent. Steve was livid. He couldn’t fucking believe it. No, no he could believe it. Maybe that was part of the problem. Livid was an understatement. 

“Billy! You fuckers get off of him!” He gasped.

When they realized the arm wasn’t gonna get much out of him, Thing #1 leaned farther over Billy, tilting his head, the reflective, silver mirror of his mask reflecting Billy’s pale visage back at him. Like a nightmare. Digging his thumb in deep. “Mayfield. Susan. Right? Pretty woman. Like that hair. Makes you wonder, huh? Does it match? Tell me, guy. Whaddya think? Where’s the best place to off a classy woman like that? Bradley’s? When she goes to get that pretty hair done at the salon? At that trailer of Jim Hoppers? You want it to be poetic, or what? We can be flexible.”  
***

“You—no. No,” Billy hissed, trying to sound angry. He was angry, but he was picturing it. Susan dead, Max without a mother. Max would be okay, she was already in all the shit, but Susan? Susan didn’t know anything, Susan was sweet and kind and loved him and was a good mother. And she—no. 

He swung his head at Thing #1 and hit fucking titanium, pain exploding all over his face from the center. Blood gushed down over his mouth in an instant and although it wasn’t as terrible as Steve’s had been months ago, his nose was definitely broken. He could hear Steve trying to scream next to them and heard his own name but he couldn’t look away. He had to keep looking the asshole in the eye, not blink, even if the idea of Susan gone was starting to filter in. 

“Fuck. You,” he gritted out again, another sound of pain eking out but no louder before he spit blood on Thing #1’s mask. He didn’t want Steve to know how much it hurt, he didn’t want Steve to see anything at all.  
***

Thing #1 and Thing #2 laughed. They actually laughed when Billy broke his nose. Like that was some high quality shit. 

Steve stared at him over the bar in horror – which was about as effective as prison bars when he was as weak as a kitten, pawing at the thing like it would make a difference and he was gonna charge over there and put a stop to things. Like he could be a tiger. His face was a convoluted mask as he yelled at them, yelled nothing but air, yelling for Billy, yelling for them to stop, cursing them. 

Blood dribbled down Thing #1’s mirrored mask as he laughed and laughed, then he leaned back over Billy.

“ Still singing the same song? I have a new idea. Tell me how this makes you feel.” He said. Then he got his gloved hand around Billy’s throat – like he knew. Like he knew. 

Steve’s eyes rolled open even wider and everything seemed to glitch, time stopping, and they were at the mall again. Billy’s boot heels kicking against tile. 

Thing #1 was squeezing. Squeezing hard, hard as he could with those awkward, fumbling gloves, but it was enough. Steve surged forward over the side of the bed like he could possibly get his feet under him, but instead he just felt the side of his face smack the ground as he promptly collapsed. A bundle of limbs in a hospital gown, snapped off wires fraying around his head like a jagged crown. A dazed, frantic mess on the tiles, just like the tiles in the mall where Billy’d almost died. Had died. Technically died. He had to stop it. Had to stop them.  
***

Billy went absolutely still, rigid as a plank the second a hand closed on his throat. Greasy tile under his feet and his father looking satisfied above him, his ribs cracked to shards under his skin. Put you out of your misery. The sound of Steve screaming, the instinct to go still and limp—still, like Steve didn’t want him to be ever again. But he couldn’t move, not like he should’ve been. 

He slapped at the forearm above him with one hand, the other weakly pushing at the mask, smearing it with his own blood. The sounds weren’t small or held in now, the injured animal pushed into a corner, the junkyard cat tied to firecrackers. Absolute dread. Complete panic. Those sounds got further away but he still wasn’t blinking, for very, very different reasons now.  
***

Steve had been working his way to his feet, fighting towards Thing #1 - crazy, desperate sounds wheezing out of him like an asthma attack even as Thing #2 restrained him, held him back. Got him half clinging onto his arm just to stay up, struggling to get at #1 and stop him. He tried punching #2 to get the guy off of him, but his knuckles only rebounded off the glass, just like BIlly’s nose, exploding like cherry bombs under his skin, but he barely noticed.

The gloved hand wasn’t there long, though surely it felt much longer than it must have been. Seconds as real as weeks, years. The intent was maybe some shock and awe – but not to kill. That rather defeated the purpose, though, if it got to that point – the end goal was achieved either way. The kid wouldn’t talk, would he? Dead men didn’t talk just as much as those who signed away their rights to do it. The hand loosened after a moment, then gently slapped against Billy’s cheek like an almost fond pat. 

“There ya go. You with me now? Guess what they say about boys needing their daddys is true. You know – I’ve heard somebody’s dad might be able to get out on good behavior. Maybe get you up to snuff on that respect and responsibility? Unless you feel like being good and signing. You sign and this all goes away.” 

Thing #2 got Steve wrapped up in his bulky arms from behind, essentially immobilizing him as he stared at Billy wild eyed. Limp brown hair and snapped wires sticking up all over the place as he tried to free himself, bare feet sliding against the floor by his toes.

“Pl-please, Billy - Billy sign - Billy sign - please - please - can’t, I can’t - “ he hissed air, pleading.  
***

Billy stayed frozen in place, only his eyes moving as they snapped over to Steve. He couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything, but he knew what Steve was saying. Hypervigilance won out and his eyes moved around the room frantically, not once landing on Thing #1 now because he couldn’t look. Then he wasn’t looking at anything, staring off into some unknown distance as the scene replayed and replayed and replayed. 

‘Born wrong. ‘

‘The humane way.’ 

He reached for the pen and signed wherever he could—once, twice, three times. Just a jagged scrawl of his name, the pen caught in a death grip in his hand even after he was done. He felt fingers pluck it out with some difficulty and then the paper was gone too but he didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t there anymore. 

Steve was dropped unceremoniously to the floor as Thing #2 took the form into his hands, folding it carefully and taking the pen back with an almost polite smile. Billy thought he might’ve heard thank you for your cooperation in an equally polite tone but then they were gone and so was he, left shaking violently in a prone position on the scratchy hospital bed with his eyes wide open. Off somewhere he couldn’t fathom, a void of pitch black sense memories.  
***

Steve drug himself up from where he had been dropped like a sack of potatoes, clinging to the metal bars of the bed, quaking so badly he thought he might shake apart. Black spots danced before his eyes like inverse stars, while he finally managed to drag himself up to a standing position. Clinging to the support bar before he managed to heave himself over the side. 

They were alone in here again. Probably being monitored – on video, with bugs, maybe both. But he curled up at Billy’s side all the same, twisting his fingers up into the bloodied neck of Billy’s hospital gown. Trembling there against the hollow of Billy’s throat as he tried to get a good look at him trying to inspect his neck, pulling the gown away to search out anything – but there weren’t any bruises, no marks, not like when Billy’s dad had strangled him to death’s door. Steve realized his lashes were wet, damp like they had been when he first woke up, but he didn’t remember crying as he pressed a dizzy, dry kiss to Billy’s scruffy, blood marred cheek. 

“Billy – Baby– “ he whispered, voice crumbling. “’m here, ‘m here. ‘m sorry. ‘m so sorry.” He made some breathy, anguished sounds against Billy’s throat, breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling hard with leftover adrenaline still surging through his veins. “They’re the bad men. ‘s them.”  
***

Billy felt the ghost of Steve’s hand on his shoulder in the bathtub. Bad Men Listening. He heard baby so he wasn’t dead, he was still there. Steve’s hands were on him and his breath was against his neck so he wasn’t dead. He’d almost been dead so many times now but he was locked in a mall a few towns over with the horrifying possibility of Neil being released, even though he’d signed. He’d done what they said and he’d signed but—they could do it. 

He burst into tears, hysterical crying that he couldn’t get a grip on as hard as he tried. Everything had been so terrible for so long that his brain couldn’t wrap around it anymore, so much sharper and pointed than almost two decades with Neil. This wasn’t the kind that snuck up on you, this was a battering ram. Threats and death and monsters and—he couldn’t stop.  
***

Steve hung on to Billy even harder, really tried to get his weak, twig-like, frail arms around him the best he could, trying to calm the tremors that shook him with each panicked sob. Twisting his eyes shut as Billy cried, nosing against his tear slick cheek and fighting not to let himself cry too. Trying, really, really trying to be the rock in this hopeless situation where there didn’t seem to be any shore in sight – just endless ocean, and he wanted to be that one spot of land for Billy amidst rough, killer waves. 

“I know, I know – I – god, I…I tried to keep it away from you. I tried. I’m sorry. ‘s my fault. This ‘s all my fault. I never should’ve…should’ve…but I…” Steve snuffled against Billy’s cheek, close enough to his ear that his words would be fairly audible, but over the sound of Billy’s crying…maybe not. 

He didn’t know what to do. He knew he was a grown ass adult but this was too much, too much, it had all been too much and he wanted to try and help Billy, but he didn’t even know how to help himself. How was he supposed to save both of them when he could hardly lift his arms? Couldn’t stand on his own? How?  
***

Billy didn’t know how much time had passed, couldn’t really think in those terms anymore, not after everything. He knew that someone like a nurse had come in and tried to clean them up. He knew that Steve had been fuming, just as untrustworthy as he was of anyone with that mask on, but that he’d let them bandage his nose for him, clean some of the blood off. He also knew that there was no point since the men had left where he’d stopped crying, not even once. It was loud enough to pierce his ears and give him a headache but he couldn’t stop, saw them giving him more fluids but just kept clinging to Steve’s arm, wailing. 

Then—there were hands. Different ones, a voice he knew. Joyce. 

“Honey, it’s okay, hey hey—Hop,” Joyce said, pausing to bark at Hopper even though he was in the tent with her, running her fingers over Billy’s sweaty curls. “It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ve got you, try and look at me okay?”

Billy tried, he did, but he kept closing his eyes every few seconds. All he could do was keep crying himself hoarse and grip the sleeve of Steve’s hospital gown, comforting, small hand on his face or not.  
***

It wasn’t like in the tub at the trailer. They weren’t safe here. It was impossible to let down their guards. It wasn’t so easy to calm Billy down from terror and a week of horror when Steve himself wasn’t in much better shape, constantly on alert. He couldn’t do his ‘Steve thing.’ Not really, not like this. He could only cling back, making shushing, soothing sounds and trying to make it not so scary. Let Billy know he was there. It reminded him a lot of those weeks after Neil had done the original deed – trying to kill his own son. Billy’s raw fear then, the way he had cried like he was small, the way he’d been blind to everything else. 

It was like a dream when new figures came into the tent – not in the hazmat suits. These were his people, Steve’s people, and Billy’s now, too. Their people. Steve’s fingers convulsed in their hold on Billy’s gown as he struggled to sit, but he was still thirsty, weakening – not even on his own IV anymore after he’d ripped it out of his arm, a dull ache on the inside of his left forearm where it was already bruised a mottled grape color, scabbing over a little.

“H- Hop – M-Missus Byers?” Steve breathed, his glazed over, chocolate eyes drifting between them like they couldn’t possibly be real. A dream. A hallucination. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, Hop’s big one, gently patting there. The way he sometimes imagined it might be if his dad patted on him on the shoulder, if he’d done something good. 

“Yeah kid. Yeah, we’re here. It’s gonna be alright. We’re getting you boys out of here. Can you stand?” Hop’s gruff voice was soft when he spoke.

Steve gave a wobbly frown as he shook his head. “Nn…I don’t…dun think so…Billy…they hurt….hurt Billy. Hop…Hop.” The last word came out as a sob, face screwing up as he finally let himself start to break down – he didn’t have to be the one supporting them both anymore. Hop was here. Joyce was here. They’d know what to do. They could get them out of here, take care of them. They’d be okay.

“Hey hey now, I thought we agreed – “ Came Owens voice through what sounded like a mask, but Steve couldn’t see him past Hop’s massive frame. Either way, he startled badly at the voice. He saw Hop turn. Steve tried to reach out to him with the hand that wasn’t still firmly holding onto Billy, fingers grasping clumsily at his elbow. Don’t go, he wanted to say.

“No. Our agreement’s off, Owens. You care to explain what the fuck happened here?”

“Nothing happened, I simply stepped away, had a few of the boys step in to have an NDA signed – I didn’t see it, but it sounds like one of them got aggressive, and – “

“You expect me to believe that horseshit? I don’t. You muzzle your dogs, Owens. We’re leaving. This whole thing? It’s over. You’re done.” 

“Now come on Jim, be reasonable – “

“It’s. Over. Get out. Of my way.” Hopper was saying. Growling.

There was a movement out of the corner of Steve’s eye, maybe someone trying to grab at Hopper’s shoulder from the other side. They were saying something Steve couldn’t make out. He saw him drag the hood off of Owen’s suit, then Hop swung his arm back and there was a solid ‘thwack’ that could only be the sound of someone getting their face pounded in, and a gross, wet sound as that someone coughed. Steve would have cheered if he could’ve. 

Hopper had turned back to the bed then. “C’mon, Harrington. I need you to keep yourself up, alright? I know you can do it. Joyce is gonna help you walk. I’m gonna have to carry Hargrove, c’mon, up we go…” 

Hopper helped ease Steve up before he moved to gently get his arms under Billy, working to gather him up like he was a small child instead of a grown young man. Bundling him up in his hospital gown, yanking cords and wires away from him as he went with something that could only be described as disgust. He was more gentle when he tugged the IV out. 

“Got you. I got you kid. It’s gonna be alright. Getting you home.”  
***

-Home- ended up being an empty Harrington household as opposed to the apartment Billy had been staying in. It had been posed as an option first thing but Billy was too distraught and Steve was less than enthusiastic about the idea. So little by little over the course of the next week they were moved in—along with a few stragglers. Max came by often with Susan to check in on them, mostly Billy, who had been largely silent the last few days. 

Hopper had set up camp with Jane, both of them taking a guest room each and staying around when Hop wasn’t called in for work or Jane wasn’t with the other kids. They’d come by once or twice too, Will and Joyce bearing gifts of pre-cooked food and quiet support, the boys playing video games in the living room. 

It had become a very quiet hub of activity, with Billy having spent all of his time upstairs. It was obviously better than where they’d been and it carried a large amount of comfort but it still—was strange. To open his eyes and not see men in mirrored masks and hazmat suits or flowers with teeth and ash in the air. The constant presence was Steve, one he reached for the second he woke up and the instant he settled down to sleep. They’d almost died together more than once and at this point Billy didn’t know how long he could stand to be away from him, whether that was even normal. 

“I don’t know,” he said from his spot, standing at the window and running a finger down the glass pane, not collecting moisture because this was a nice house with good windows. “I don’t feel...like it.”

“Billy, you haven’t felt like it for days. Just—I don’t know, come downstairs,” Max said from the doorway, looking at Steve for some help. “Mom ordered pizza and everybody’s just hanging out. You should get out of the room at least.”  
***

Really, Steve didn’t know that he’d be much help when Max looked to him for assistance. Usually he might be gung-ho about it, if he hadn’t been through the shit too. The problem was - he didn’t blame Billy. Steve felt that way too. Or more like, didn’t feel like it. He’d ventured out more than Billy – at least as far as the kitchen to drag snacks back to their room (not his room anymore – their room) like it was some kind of den. A safe den. And it wasn’t one he wanted to stray from for long. It made him think of them trying to find safe spots on the other side – where no spots were truly safe – and he desperately just needed this one to be. 

He appreciated the constant, low hum of activity in the background, though. It made all of this seem more real, like they weren’t the only two people left in the world anymore. And that was a good thing. He liked it feeling like planet earth, and not the twisted mirror of it, nor the version with similarly mirrored masks. Steve had apparently broken a few fine bones in his hand on that stupid mask, just like Billy’d busted his nose open, and now he had a stupid, short cast on that all of the kids had drawn all over with sharpies - Will the most, artistic kinda stuff. 

His back also had fresh bandages, just like Billy’s arm, and they were like two peas in a pod. Steve was currently lying on his side on the bed, where he was fiddling with the tape player one handed – fuck casts – and trying to pop in a new pair of batteries when he gave a hum of disinterest at Max’s pleading. 

“Maybe we can…I dunno - later.” Steve said, not really looking up from his one handed task. He said ‘maybe’ like his mom did when she meant ‘no.’  
***

“I—alright,” Max said after a minute, her eyes bouncing between the two of them. She sighed but tried not to sound too exasperated, straightened up and gave a quick smile instead. “Maybe later. Billy, mom really wants you to eat something, so—come out later. For her, okay?”

Billy didn’t watch Max go but he listened, her socked feet getting further and further away until her voice joined the others. He could hear someone’s disappointment downstairs—probably Dustin, deprived of the love of his life again. He didn’t really feel like laughing about it though so he just watched nothing out the window, listened to the sound of Steve struggling until he couldn’t anymore. 

“Here,” he said softly, reaching out to take the cassette player from him. He popped the new batteries in and closed the back before putting it back in Steve’s hands, turning back to the window and blowing air on the glass. He drew a smiley face but it faded pretty quick so he tried again, looked over his shoulder after another failed attempt. “Do you? Want to see them I mean?”  
***

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief as Billy finally took it off of his hands and did it simply. “It’s those dumb little…spring thingies.” Steve frowned like he wasn’t a total idiot that didn’t know how to put in batteries. It was the spring thingies. “Thanks.” 

He rolled over onto his stomach, clicking a generic cassette open with a flick of his thumb and forefinger to let the tape slide out upside down. It took him a second to get it into the player, one of his mix tapes with a bunch of different music (Mostly Bob Seger) titled ‘Steve Mix #18!!!’. He stood up as ‘Night Moves’ started to play on a really low volume, still in a pair of grey sweats and a simple white tank top – trying to keep fabric off of his back as much as he could. He eased up behind Billy, chest lining up along his spine as Steve wrapped both arms around the flat of Billy’s stomach. Twining them there and holding on tight, hugging him from behind. Made a little awkward by the cast. He huffed a soft, indecisive breath, forehead resting against the back of Billy’s skull, and the soft, clean, fluffy curls there. 

“Not really.” He said. “I mean I…I dunno. It feels weird. Doesn’t it? Will wasn’t even around until like...Christmas. And he disappeared before Halloween. I don’t think anyone is expecting this to just...be okay, overnight. But, still, reasonably I give Dustin like…twenty minutes, tops, before he comes in here like, ‘Steve, I’m bringing the party t’you, my man.’” He finished off with a goofy rendition of Dustin’s voice, seeing if he could get Billy to crack a smile. A real smile, not one just drawn on fading breath.  
***

Billy’s lips ticked up in the corners just barely, though he was trying. It was hard lately—he was relieved, more than relieved, and it wasn’t that he was unhappy. After that tent, the men with the papers he signed, he’d just felt—a little emptier. Like all the fight had just whooshed right out of him and he was trying to pump himself back up, a slow process when the bridge of his nose still hurt every time he sniffed or cried. Which, unfortunately, was often. 

“It’s okay if he does,” he said, looking down at Steve’s arms. He ran his hand across the cast and gave it a featherlight tap with one of his fingernails, listening to the quiet click while the smile moved to just one corner of his mouth. “I’ll pretend I’m asleep or something, like on—I don’t know, whatever two days ago was. I haven’t even called work, Hop said it was fine, that he’d talk to us. I’m remembering that right, aren’t I?”  
***

“Yeah….yeah, yesterday he said something about it when I went downstairs. That your boss is holding your job, and he talked to my parents, too. My dad knows I’m…still at the house. I don’t think they know what happened. Not really. But that I’m, y’know…that I’m not flying out yet.” Steve paused at that ‘yet.’ It felt like a loaded word. An unsure word.

“And you don’t have to pretend you’re asleep. You can join the party too, if you want. Dustin thinks you’re crazy cool, now that he doesn’t think you’re…well…” Terrifying. “Now that he’s gotten to know you better.” He amended. “It was his idea to make you the Barbarian of the party. With the character sheet and everything.” He murmured, stroking his good thumb over the fabric of Billy’s t-shirt in a repetitive motion. “That’s best-friends level. You’re one of us.”  
***

Billy shrugged, like maybe everything from his birthday had just been a nice dream. He’d honestly forgotten about the character sheet. How long ago was his birthday even? Too long. He wanted to go back to that day, it was perfect. Everything had been so perfect then. Not like—a hand on his neck. 

He turned around in Steve’s arms, pushing his forehead against Steve’s in a tiny head butt, reaching down to play with the cast again. All the kids had signed it and it was—sweet. Will had even drawn a bat on there and it reminded him of the table legs they’d used in the—whatever Dustin called it. Upside Down. 

“I—sorry, don’t think I’m up to it,” he said finally, huffing out a breath and pressing his forehead on Steve’s one more time. “I just wanna stay up here. It’s quiet.”  
***

“Don’t be sorry.” Steve shook his head a little against Billy’s, tired eyes dropped to watch as he fiddled with the cast – Steve hated the thing, he’d never broken a bone in his life, and it was more than a little annoying. “I’m not either. I don’t wanna go down. Just wanna stay up here with you. And when we’re ready to go down, we can go down together, huh?” He tilted his chin down just enough that he could brush their lips together briefly, wary of Billy’s nose, gazing up at him now through long lashes. Dark circles beneath even darker eyes. 

“But I do agree with her about eating. I grabbed lots of stuff from the kitchen.” It made him think of Billy stashing food away like a pack rat. Now here Steve was doing it. “I got um, some Doritos, and fruit roll ups, Bugles, a couple boxes of cereal, those Carnation breakfast bars you like? Oh um, Planters, too. Dustin even brought Fruit Pies from the Fair Mart. What sounds good? We can have our own little party in here, just us. But no crumbs in the bed.”  
***

“Mm, yeah okay. The bars,” Billy said, unable to help a real smile from coming through. It was still small but—still a smile. He rolled his eyes at crumbs in the bed and made grabby hands for them, rifling around in Steve’s stash until he found a box. His fucking favorite even, and he tore into it immediately. 

Carefully away from the bed. Obviously. 

He looked down at himself halfway through and sighed—not exactly cut anymore, but he couldn’t do it. His appetite was fucking zilch and so was his desire to do anything but sleep. It was like being in what Bea had called a depressive episode, only he couldn’t talk to her anymore. There were too many things now, too many things he couldn’t talk to a therapist about. Maybe that was it too.  
***

As Billy polished off the bar but left the rest untouched, Steve shifted on his feet, lips pursing slightly, and made a decision. He bent over to grab up the bag of Bugles with one hand. He tore it open with his teeth, because, one hand was not as good as two, and held it against his chest with the crook of his elbow. With the other good hand, he dipped his fingers into the cheesy goodness and glanced up at Billy, brows arching up towards his hairline. His expression was open, as a tentative, slow smile tipped at the corner of his mouth.

“I have a game, if you want to play.” Steve offered after a second of fishing around in the bag, but not pulling anything out. He knew Billy loved games. He also knew he loved to win. “But we have to lock the door first.”  
***

Billy’s eyebrows shot up in interest and he tilted his head curiously, uncrossing his legs. The prospect of needing to lock the door was the most intriguing and a part he was happy to do himself. He clicked the knob and turned around, leaning back against the door but peering forward with his head and shoulders. 

“What kinda game?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and watching Steve’s hand move around. “Are there points? What if I win?”  
***

Steve perked up when Billy easily obliged by locking the door, setting things up for said game. He moved a few steps closer to Billy and settled down on the pristine carpet cross legged, adjusting until he was comfortable – he wasn’t doing this on the bed. They’d just had the sheets washed, Mrs. Byers had insisted. 

“Okay, rules – yep, there are points.” He pulled his hand out of the bag, waving around a little Bugle propped on each fingertip, thumb too - palm soft with cheese dust – they’d done it all the time when they’d been kids, Carol called them witch fingers. Steve’d acted like he had claws, a predator ready to pounce. “For every ten bugles you can get off of my fingers before I eat them, I take off a piece of clothes. For every ten I eat, you have to take one off. Tongues definitely allowed. First one without any clothes left? Loses. Winner gets a blowjob. Wanna play?”  
***

Billy sat down in front of Steve and mirrored his posture, right knee bouncing. It wasn’t in a bad way, more just finally wanting to do something that wasn’t sleeping or crying or letting Steve do his hair in the mirror. He nodded more and more after every sentence, each one sounding better than the one before. Taking clothes off? Great. Blowjob? Great. 

He unceremoniously grabbed Steve’s wrist and pulled it towards himself, sucking the top of each finger. He tilted it to the side and got the thumb next, chewing once he’d finished with a smug smile on his face. 

“Shirt off, please,” he said mid-chew, wiggling Steve’s wrist in his hand and letting it go. “Those are your rules.”  
***

Steve’s mouth gaped open in a mock pout when he surged forward onto his knees where Billy pulled him closer, easily licking each of the cheesy triangles from his fingers, thumb too, chewing with smug satisfaction as he gestured at Steve.

“Hey no way, I didn’t even say ‘go.’ That was a practice round, no more freebies.” Steve was all mock indignation as he pointed at him with a cheesy finger, still slick with Billy’s spit, thumbing at that full lower lip like he thought he was cute or something. He settled back onto his haunches, digging back into the bag.

“I’ve gotta say go.” He sniffed, then immediately tugged his fingers from the bag, re-decorated. ‘Okay GO.” He half shouted, flashing a grin as he lifted his hand immediately towards his mouth, going for his index finger, sucking a bugle into his mouth, tongue already out for the middle finger.  
***

Billy snatched Steve’s wrist again and leaned forward this time, crowding him to suck the rest of the bugles up before he could get to them. Only four, but that was more than nothing. He met Steve’s smile with one of his own, swallowing his last bite triumphantly. Not all that many chances to actually win at something after high school, and it wasn’t like beating up a dead flower monster counted either. 

He won the next round too, cleanly this time. It was up to 9 on his end and it just wasn’t fair that the first time hadn’t counted. They hadn’t really gotten any good looks at each other since they’d gotten back, though Billy had still been looking. They’d both just been—exhausted. It didn’t seem to matter, though the prospect of it now was exciting. 

“Can 9 count? Shirt?” he asked with a pout, trying to bat his eyelashes.  
***

“I’d love to but, rules are rules, baby.” Steve purred at him with bedroom eyes, licking up the cheese from the tips of his fingers with a little cats smile at Billy. Making a complete show of cleaning up his fingertips, tongue sliding from knuckles to nail beds like a preview, before his hand was buried back in the bag in his lap. 

This time he got it out faster and he was already laughing a little giddily as he snatched up the bugle from his thumb and pinky, crunching down and half scrambling onto his back as he let Billy surge towards him, in expectation of it. In anticipation of it. Bandages all but forgotten in favor of what was in front of him. Billy. Smiling, and eating, and active. Engaged.  
***

Billy crawled forward and the smile on his face wasn’t triumphant or competitive even, just happy. Happy to hear Steve’s laugh and not feel like they were just sitting shiva together for something that had already happened, that they’d survived. He moved between Steve’s legs but didn’t push down on his upper half, set one arm next to his ribs while the other stole his wrist again. 

“That’s,” he said, taking Steve’s index finger into his mouth, sucking all the way from knuckle to fingertip. He did the same with the middle and ring finger, cleaning them off one by one, even the ones he hadn’t gotten himself. “Thirteen.”

He let Steve’s wrist go in favor of pulling the hem of his shirt up greedily, bending over to nudge the tip of his nose along each inch of skin it afforded him the further he pushed up. Nice freckled skin, healthy and alive, warm under his lips. Not shivering, not sweating, just smelling like sweet, expensive shampoo and candy.  
***

Steve’s laughter caught in his throat as Billy actually actively used the ‘tongues allowed’ rule, just like Steve had – enthusiastically. His chest hitched with breath as Billy slotted himself between Steve's legs, not just sucking the bugles off, but sucking Steve’s fingers off, one by one, mirroring Steve from moments before. But Billy’s mouth felt different than Steve’s – hotter, wetter, the flat of his tongue firm and sure of victory. 

“Four.” Steve gave a little gasp as the tip of Billy’s nose tickled along his stomach, easing his tank top up, playing close to his treasure trail. Dangerously close to the waistband of his low hanging sweats, and he felt his cock – already starting to fill out, give a weak jump just at the proximity of the attention. “I’m at four.” 

He used his fingers – spit slick and eager, to grasp at the hem of his shirt to pull it the rest of the way up over his head – the fingers of his cast-hand horribly clumsy as he arched against the floor to tug the thing off. Tossing it away with a little, artistic spin, and a cutesy smile. He propped himself up onto his elbows then, shoving his hand in the bag, watching Billy with slowly darkening eyes, biting at his lower lip with a smile playing over his mouth. Dust at the corners. He had his hand out of the bag before he could blink, licking three up almost immediately, but leaving more than enough time for Billy to take the last ones – of course he was gonna let Billy win, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna give him something of a challenge.  
***

“Hey!” Billy said indignantly, a little engrossed with Steve’s stomach, though not enough to keep him from hearing Steve start while he was in the middle of something. “Cheater. Cheating.”

He smacked Steve’s arm away from his face and pulled the hand down close to where he was to finish the last two off, setting his cheek against Steve’s chest carefully as he chewed. It felt nice, not that he hadn’t done this several times in the past few days, but it didn’t make it any less enjoyable. Maybe moreso, now that he was feeling more like himself. 

The next round he won outright, playfully pushing Steve’s face away as he ate every bugle for himself. He wiggled his shoulders in triumph and smiled up at Steve, letting his arm go because there were much more important things to do. Like hook his fingers into the low waistband of Steve’s sweats and pull them down, easing each foot out and throwing them aside. It made it a lot easier to see how excited the game was making Steve, easier for him to nuzzle the bulge there before moving back to his knees like nothing had happened.  
***

“Totally not cheating!” Steve laughed at him, his heart pounding in the soft parts of his throat and chest as he squirmed on the ground, trying to ease himself back up as Billy pushed at him playfully. 

But Steve was being equally as playful, and it felt good – better than good, really – fucking wonderful - to be seeing more of Billy come out than he’d seen of him in a while. What felt like – Jesus, maybe…maybe at the fair. Forever ago. And Steve was going to enjoy every second of it. Seeing Billy so…so happy, eager and excitable, bright eyed and wiggling his shoulders in victory, smiling so beautifully…that really was what got Steve going. 

He was proud of his little game he’d dreamed up on the spot, but it was going better than he’d imagined, and it had quickly become everything he wanted. It was laughter and smiles, teasing and excitement, drawing out their competitive natures, and also the heart of their physical chemistry. And Billy had already eaten so many, more than he’d been able to get Billy to eat by trying to pester him this week. He worried over Billy not eating.

Then Billy was easing him out of his second article of clothing he’d lost, and Steve lifted his hips to help him with it – he couldn’t help those hips also stuttering a little at the sudden, unexpected contact of Billy’s face at his crotch. It had him letting out a breathy moan, socked toes clenching against the carpet. Steve only had his Calvins left, and two crew cut socks. 

He fumbled for the bag, quickly getting distracted. He’d always really like the idea of, well, really any kind of a strip game – like strip poker – but the last time he’d played strip poker it had been with Tommy and Carol and he’d been pretty drunk and it was completely different playing with someone you loved. Nancy had always flat out refused his really good game ideas, to make things interesting, like it was some sick idea or something. Billy embraced it, though, and that excited Steve, too, even if there was more to this game than getting naked. But actually playing it, it was harder to stay on task the farther it went. Steve snatched his fingers from the bag, licking up the bugles from his index and ring fingers at the same time, using way more tongue than necessary - leaving three wide open to Billy. Gaps in his defense.  
***

Billy was almost too distracted to notice the opportunity Steve was giving him, watching the way that Steve licked at those long fingers he liked so much. His brain caught up once the fog settled and he pulled the fingers in question towards him, finishing the hand off. This time though he kept Steve’s index finger in his mouth, long since clean but sorely needed. 

He nudged closer with his bottom half, free arm innocently pressed against the outline of Steve’s cock in his underwear. Each time he sucked Steve’s finger a little harder he could feel it twitch against his forearm so he didn’t stop. He didn’t want to, not when the door was closed and locked, rules of Steve’s game be damned.  
***

Steve looped his arm with the busted hand around Billy’s shoulders for some kind of support as he leaned back again, giving Billy more space to settle over him. Covering his lower half almost completely, and the pressure of is forearm against Steve’s dick didn’t go unnoticed. Steve gave a breathy gasp as he watched Billy through half lowered lids, the way his finger slid into the hot cavern of Billy’s mouth. 

The way his cheeks went faintly concave as he sucked on Steve’s finger, the pressure of his tongue drawing it against the roof of his mouth. Each draw of his mouth a little harder, a little more insistent, and it had Steve’s cock giving a hungry little kick practically in time. They hadn’t done anything close to this, not since that….that flower fiasco. Out of their minds on pink dust. Since then, they’d been too, too sick, too tired, too frightened and too done to do much than maybe some fumbling, chaste kisses like a reminder that they were still together. Still in love. As if they needed that reminder. 

But this was so much more than some little, passing thing. Steve let out a needy sound in the back of his throat, his hips straining up for some kind of contact as Billy treated his finger as a lollipop at best. Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of those bright, pink, healthy lips. Not blue with cold. Warm and burning hot around his skin. 

“B-Billy,” Steve’s voice had grown husky, breaking in the middle of his name like a question. Squirming beneath him. 

Steve started actively sliding his finger in and out of Billy’s mouth, dripping saliva, as if to see what his reaction might be. Grazing the pad of it over the dip in that burning tongue. His thigh lifting to search out an outline of Billy’s cock between his legs, grinding upwards in earnest now.  
***

Billy’s eyelids fluttered the second Steve’s finger started to move, his grip on Steve’s wrist loose now, just a gentle point of contact. He made a soft, needy sound and kept going until it didn’t feel like quite enough, his hips rolling until he was humping Steve’s thigh like he couldn’t help himself. Slowly he slipped the finger out of his mouth with a sigh, hips continuing to move. 

“What if,” he asked a bit breathlessly, letting Steve grind against his arm before giving him something better. He slid his hand up to press his heel against the prominent bulge of Steve’s underwear, thumb sweeping over the head of his cock through the fabric. “I want you to win? What if I don’t want to wait?”  
***

Steve’s brain shorted out as Billy had started to hump against his thigh, the ridge of his cock firm and reassuring in how much Billy wanted him. And Jesus, Steve wanted him too. They were rutting together like they were freshman with little else for experience, rubbing up against one another like it was the best fucking thing known to man. A revelation. 

When Billy actually rubbed the heel of his hand over Steve’s cock though, applying purposeful pressure and swiping over the head – already damp with dribbling pre-come against the spandex cotton – Steve gulped and fought for breath, groaning softly as pleasure washed through him in a sudden, electric wave. Goosebumps blossoming along the exposed skin of his chest, nipples pebbled from both the air and their very active lower halves.

“Billy H-Hargrove, lose?” Steve gasped back, with a little, half smile even as his mouth was hanging open for each panted breath. Trying to tease, but mostly failing with the way his voice stuttered. “Well I guess – i-if you surrender, I accept. Or we can call it a draw? G, god I don’t want to wait.” 

He used his now free hand to curl up at the back of Billy’s neck, into the fine baby hairs there and spilled curls, to draw that perfect, sweet face down to his. Neck arching up, hips too. He connected their lips – tasting of cheesy dust, licking the rest of it from his mouth. Steve’s tongue dipped deep into the recess of that mouth hungrily, eagerly, messy and wet as it tangled with Billy’s. Tightening his fingers in Billy’s curls and giving an encouraging tug.  
***

“Draw,” Billy said, going for cocky but coming up very short, the kiss too intoxicating to speak more than that. He nodded instead, leaning back in to continue it, the pull to his hair pulling something else out—a long, needy whine. 

He rolled his hips against Steve’s thigh in earnest, gasping into Steve’s mouth like it was the best feeling in the world. It was—getting to feel the big, hard outline of Steve’s cock under his hand, the way the tip was leaking like he was feeling the same. He curled his tongue and invited Steve’s back in, almost sagging in relief when he got his wish, Steve’s tongue delving inside and claiming his mouth. His free hand reached up to cradle the side of Steve’s face, a momentary hiss of pain when their noses brushed before it was gone. 

He dipped his hand inside of Steve’s underwear and finally wrapped his fingers around his cock, squeezing and using the precome at the tip to slick the way. He could feel it twitch in his palm and it gave him the confidence to stroke a little quicker, more purposeful. He’d get to the other part, he just—needed this. Needed this connection.  
***

Steve was moaning into Billy’s mouth, trying to keep himself quiet with gaggles of people downstairs within earshot, but it was hard, in more than one way. He rocked up desperately into Billy’s hand, cock fitting into those strong, sure fingers like it was meant to be there. Slicked along by his own pre-come. Steve pulled back just enough, muttering ‘sorries’ about Billy’s nose, staring up at him through pleasure hazed eyes, pupils gone dark, as he dropped his hand from Billy’s hair to tug at the waistband of Billy’s sweats. 

“9 close enough?” He asked in a hushed voice against those plush, full lips, mirroring Billy’s earlier request – which Steve had denied - tilting his cheek against his rough palm and nuzzling there. His tongue darting out against Billy’s lower lip like incentive. Gazing up at him from beneath his lashes as hips rutted into Billy’s strokes all on their own. Breath and heart rate quickly speeding up as if to keep time.  
***

Billy nodded instantly, lifting his hips enough for Steve to push his sweats down but not completely off. He was too excited to bother moving, breath hitching when his cock rubbed against skin rather than the inside of his own sweats. He knew he was making a mess on Steve’s thigh, precome smearing up and down it as he moved but he couldn’t help it, knew Steve didn’t mind in the slightest. He moaned and had to quiet himself—an image of Steve shoving his shirt into his mouth while he fucked him in the library popping into his head. 

His strokes to Steve’s cock got faster, squeezing and twisting his wrist just right on each stroke up. There was power in being able to make Steve shiver but it was completely equal in this case, Steve not even touching him yet but still driving him insane. 

“Pl—your hand,” he whined, no louder than a whisper, lips still against Steve’s in a clumsy kiss. “Please.”  
***

“G-god yeah, yes, uh-huh – uh-huh – “ Steve babbled, just a hoarse whisper really, as Billy’s sweats were pushed down around his knees, giving Steve access – he reached between them to grasp Billy’s dick – just the right width, thick, hard and heavy in his hand, but soft as velvet. 

His left hand was a little clumsy at first, but he instantly started stroking, pulling him off in time with Billy’s own hand like a mirror. Snapping his wrist in just the way he knew Billy really liked as his hand slid from the base to the tip. He bit at Billy’s lip instead of his own, snagging the lower between his teeth and drawing it out between them, before he was silencing Billy with his own tongue again. He thumbed at the slit of Billy’s head, urging more pre-come to form at the tip, smearing it with the pads of his fingers, and at the ridge beneath, insistently. 

He wished he could do more with his other hand – grab at Billy’s ass, tease at his hair, rake along his back. But his dominant right hand sat dead in the water, having to settle with just grasping at Billy’s shoulders with the awkward thing. There was something about writhing together on the carpet like this – too wrapped up in one another’s bodies, in swapped spit, twisting tongues, shared breath, unable to take the time to do more than jack each other off. Eager to bring out pleasure for the other, no time to spare. Arms working.

And Steve knew – knew he wasn’t gonna last long. With Billy’s body spread above him, those soft, needy whines in the back of his throat that he didn’t dare spill out loud – those sounds Steve loved, that he thought, sometimes, would make him come just listening to Billy. The way his skin was already growing damp with preparation, how he could feel Billy’s hips jump to meet Steve’s touch. And Jesus, his hand.

“Love you,” Steve whimpered against Billy’s mouth, his brain fizzling out on an overload of the senses. He felt so fucking good, Billy was making him feel so good – he’d forgotten he could feel so good.  
***

Billy slid his hand to the back of Steve’s neck, fingers playing with the soft, wild hair as he pulled him closer. Hearing I love you floored him like it always did, especially now. Now that they were safe and together and Steve wasn’t going to leave—never going to leave. They would get better together and love each other for a long time, every year, anytime. 

That thought—more than the clumsy handjob or the way they both had to be quiet—was what tipped him over the edge. He tried to say I love you back but it got lost in the kiss as he came, fingers curling into Steve’s hair to hold on tight as he fucked those perfect, long fingers. Painted them with his come, his own hand working quicker and quicker every second. 

“Come for me,” he pleaded, head tipping back a bit, hips flinching from overstimulation but too excited to stop. “Come on, sweetheart.”  
***

Steve’s large hand tightened just a little, adding some pressure and pulling Billy off faster and faster as he felt him start to come. Licking the quiet sounds from his mouth and swallowing them down as he worked Billy through his orgasm. Quivering above him, cock thrumming beneath Steve’s attentive fingers as heady white come seeped out from between the gaps of his knuckles. Steve kept his eyes open, just enough, to stare up in rapture at the image of Billy’s face before him. The way his mouth dropped open, lax, the way he almost looked pained, eyebrows knitting up, cheeks flushing bright red as he came. Beautiful. 

That, and then Billy pleading with him, asking him, calling him ‘sweetheart’ shoved Steve off the edge of that precarious balance beam he’d already been toeing along. His fingers had gone still against Billy’s cock as he felt Billy’s hips start to flinch with oversensitivity, but it in no way slowed Billy’s hand on Steve’s dick, and he fucked up into it blindly, completely lost as the back of his head rocked on the carpet. Exposing his neck to Billy, breathing out hard through his nose as he froze up. Probably making a similar face to Billy’s only a second before, mouth hanging open, eyes screwing up, trying not to cry out as he came in Billy’s hand. 

When he finally started to come down from the high to settle into post-orgasm bliss, skin all buzzy and electric, his back started to lower against the floor once more. He hung onto Billy with both arms then, drawing him back against his chest. Hugging him there for a second, temple pressed to temple, trying to catch his breath - chest rising and falling like mad beneath Billy’s. Come cooling between them.  
***

“Careful of your back,” Billy warned softly, rubbing their heads together one last time before pulling back to put his weight on right forearm. “One second, then we can lay down again somewhere better for it.”

He licked his left hand clean with long, flat sweeps of his tongue, trying to savor the taste of Steve’s come. He’d never minded it in the first place but there was something about Steve’s that he especially liked, though maybe he shouldn’t. Steve was a veritable garbage disposal for snack food, something that definitely hadn’t changed since they got back. 

“Here, let me,” he said, grasping Steve’s left hand and pulling it close as he sat back on his knees. He stayed like that, sweats still yanked just down over his ass and legs spread, as he brought Steve’s fingers up to his mouth. Into a much filthier version of their game from before he licked across his palm and sucked every finger clean with a slow precision. “There, better?”  
***

It was funny how easily pain could be ignored while your brain was too busy focusing on the burn of pleasure instead, almost blurring the lines between the two, sometimes, if even just a little. Steve hummed and sat up a little, getting off his shoulder blades from the carpet and tentatively giving them a roll to see how they felt. It wasn’t too terrible, he guessed, about the same as before, but he still felt really bubbly all over. It was more itchy than anything.

He watched with very, very attentive eyes as Billy licked the cream of Steve’s come from his hand, a little mesmerized by the sight. It was almost as good as Billy doing the same for Steve’s hand, but this time, licking up his own come – the flat of his tongue roughing over Steve’s long, slender fingers like a big cat’s. Sucking at each finger until Steve felt something twist in his gut with renewed interest, only benched for a moment, and he was shifting on his ass on the carpet. Eyes locked on his own hand, captured by Billy’s.

“Jesus, you’re gonna get me all hard again.” Steve breathed out, chocolate eyes big. Laughing a little, like he couldn’t quite get enough air. “Better. Let me taste?” He asked, lifting his eyes from their joined hands, rocking up onto his bare knees to inch closer. He bent at the neck just enough to slot their lips together, tongue delving back into Billy’s mouth, searching out the taste of Billy’s and Steve’s come combined.  
***

Billy sagged into Steve’s chest, bowled over by the kiss and whatever sort of spell it felt like he’d fallen under. Knowing Steve wanted him like this, that he’d always want him like this was intoxicating, maybe always would be too. He opened his mouth readily to let Steve taste just the way he asked to, jaw slack and lips parted. 

After a minute he knew he’d get hard again too, though he also knew he didn’t have the energy for it. As it was he felt like he’d been hit by a semi, all of the physical activity making him embarrassingly tired—so much that he yawned right into Steve’s mouth. 

“Sorry,” he said, absolutely not bashful about it—no, that wasn’t it.  
***

Steve smiled softly against Billy’s mouth, leaving one last love peck at the corner – a hidden kiss – before he drew away. He trailed the fingers of his good hand over Billy’s chest, tugging at his shirt in a ‘c’mon’ motion.  
“Don’t say sorry. ‘m tired too. Feel like a nap? ‘cause I could use a nap.” He kissed Billy one last time before he staggered to his feet, holding out a hand to help Billy up, too, sweats around his knees. He needed to find his briefs…he knew they were around here somewhere. 

By the time they’d gotten situated clothing-wise, (and Steve had made sure to get them both to drink water,) Steve was only in his briefs, letting his back breathe a little. He curled up sleepily in the queen size bed alongside Billy. He swept the fine, expensive blankets over both of them, smoothing them against Billy’s shoulder like he was tucking him in before promptly squishing against him. Tangling their legs together beneath the sheets and yawning widely into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It was maybe around four o’clock, and definitely nap time.  
***

Billy had forgone any clothing in light of the door still being locked, eyes fluttering closed when Steve moved closer. It felt so good to be skin to skin again with nothing separating them at the moment. No Bad Men, no monsters, not even the dark—Steve had left the bathroom light on. He hadn’t been afraid of the dark before and now he knew why Steve was, why the heat and the lights were always on. Some reminder that you weren’t there, you were here and here it could be bright and warm and safe. Relatively safe. It definitely made it easier to fall asleep, to curl up until there wasn’t any space separating them, clinging to each other fondly. 

A nap turned into full blown sleep, something that had happened several times accidentally in the past few days. Even short doses of socializing were exhausting, naps happening several times throughout the day and sometimes, like now, morphing into almost twelve hours of solid sleep. At least he thought the clock flashed 3:10, thought Steve was jostling him. 

“Hm?” he said roughly, frowning with his eyes still shut tight. His hand sought out the one shaking his shoulder and tried to swipe it away, yawning mid-push. “S’too early.”  
***

Steve blinked wide at Billy like a startled owl, the glaring red of the clock numbers reflecting in the depths of his eyes as he nudged at Billy’s shoulder again, biting at his lip. Biting until it hurt a little, like a reminder he was actually awake, and this was the real world. 

“Billy?” He whispered again, a tremor in his voice, poking him in the shoulder. Steve was still face to face with the dozing blonde, close enough that their hips could knock together, and their legs were still interlocked and tangled up in sheets. 

Steve was covered in an uncomfortable layer of icy sweat, making the dark locks at the back of his neck curl up with stress, and the sheets stick to the small of his back. He blinked in confusion, and rubbed at his eyes before flinching away at the foreign feel of the plaster cast instead of skin. Steve felt disoriented, still half in his dream, half out - at least, at least he thought it was a dream. He wasn’t sure. He grasped at Billy’s shoulder again, giving him a gentle shake awake. Like it was urgent, even as Billy swiped him away.

“B-baby? Billy? ‘re you okay?”  
***

Billy sighed in exasperation at first, trying again to push Steve out of his face to no avail. Then Steve’s tone sank in, the alarm and the urgency. It opened his eyes immediately, upper half a bit rigid but not trying to move away anymore. 

“I’m okay,” he said, trying to sound reassuring even if he was barely awake. He frowned with his eyes open now, straightening up and urging Steve up to a sitting position with him. “Hey, I’m fine. You were just dreaming. I’m fine, I’m okay. A little worse for wear but—I’m okay, sweetheart.”  
***

Steve stared at him as if he was searching for a lie in what Billy was saying, a reason, a visual marker that something was devastatingly wrong. But he didn’t see it. Despite the sleep they’d gotten, in the shadows and gloom of the room and the slant of a warm glow from the bathroom, the circles under Steve’s eyes looked almost chipped out of stone. His fingers were trembling faintly when he latched onto Billy’s shoulders – bare and smooth and unmarred. Steve tried to slow his breathing. His gaze flicked up from where he’d been inspecting Billy for some wound to catch that blue, blue gaze in the dim light. 

“Y-you’re sure? You’re sure you’re okay? I – it didn’t feel like a dream, it felt real. It felt…so real.” He frowned, glancing away to take in the familiar surroundings of their room, like plaid had upchucked everywhere. It felt foreign. “It was…it was awful.” He murmured, slowly coming down from the edge of fear as reality started to soak in around the edges of his mind. Billy was okay. Billy was alright. Worse for wear, but that’s all.  
***

Billy reached up to squeeze the hands on his shoulders briefly, placing them on either side of Steve’s face next, palms over his ears. He scooted closer until their legs were tangled together, his spread on either side, thighs on top of Steve’s and feet behind his back. He got as close as he could be without completely climbing into his lap, the remnants of that nightmare place they’d been for so long reflected in Steve’s eyes. 

“What happened? What happened in your dream?” he asked, leaning in close to make their foreheads touch and keeping them there. His arms wound their way around Steve’s shoulders in kind, fingers running up the back of his head, massaging and hoping it did something to make him feel at ease. “Just a dream, promise. See, we’re both right here.”  
***

Steve stiffened up, at first, at the question. However, Billy was practically winding around him to make this cozy little space just between the two of them. Like this safe haven made up of their bodies, with limited room in-between them. No space for monsters. Steve’s eyes slid closed as their foreheads connected, sagging into everywhere Billy was touching him, his arms still wound around the other boy’s shoulders. He scooted forward too, trying to get as close as possible. The fingers threading through the damp locks at the back of his skull, massaging into his scalp with soft fingertips helped. Billy’s presence, his very alive presence, helped. Steve clung onto him like he might disappear. 

And he couldn’t help it when his face started to crack like a fragile shell, grimacing as a few tears slid down his cheeks, eyes burning, nose pricking and pinking up. Steve sniffed, trying to find the words, voice craggy. 

“Uh, I – uh – I dunno. I couldn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t stop it in time. I could just stand there, like an idiot, because, because my legs and arms were tied down, and you just kept getting – getting pulled, closer and closer, and then you were gone. But it sort of…sort of…I don’t know? Spit you up? Later? And you, you…were half...” 

Steve’s stomach twisted and he clenched his eyes shut, tears squeezing out from between the lashes. As if he could block out the sight of it, a grotesque, unfinished digestion. He couldn’t think about it again. “And before it, you were so – so mad at me. Because I, I fucked everything up, I fucked everything up – and you weren’t talking to me, and I couldn’t, couldn’t tell you I loved you. And it was too late.” He finished with a sob, voice growing more and more frantic with each sentence. “And I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”  
***

Billy’s face fell further with every sentence as he watched Steve break apart in front of him. He listened to the nightmare and tried to imagine how it might feel—he hadn’t had any nightmares of Steve dying, more bad dreams of Steve leaving him there than anything. It seemed like Steve had been dreaming some of the same things from the other end, the guilt palpable in his voice, in the way he was crying. 

“It’s—it’s not. It’s not too late,” he said with a shake of his head, though he couldn’t help the tears that sprang up himself. Mostly they were ones of sympathy, the guilt of hurting someone. Even if Steve had done it to keep him alive, even if it did end up saving him that night. “It’s not too late, I’m still here. It didn’t get me, I’m not mad.”

But he had been—worse than that. He’d been heartbroken and devastated, a shell of a person for a month that felt like decades. That old pain reared up and made him cry in earnest, but then he was shaking his head in earnest too. 

“You said, you said you won’t go. You won’t go ever again,” he cried, sniffling as he smoothed the back of Steve’s hair with shaky fingers. “You won’t, I believe you. I trust you and I’m not mad. I’m not mad, I love you. You saved me.”  
***

Steve tightened the crooks of his elbows, trying to draw their bodies even closer, clinging to him almost like a frightened child. He tried to focus on the way Billy smoothed over the back of his hair. He hadn’t meant to make Billy cry too, he hadn’t. The guilt was a tangible thing under his skin, poisoning his bones, and leaching into his voice when he spoke again.

“I won’t. I won’t. But I – but, but at the auto shop you.... and – and then Max said you…I…how can you not be mad? I, I’d never wanna talk to me again. I was such a…such a dick.” Steve sniffed, grimacing as little choked sobs hiccuped out of him, and he tasted something like self loathing. “That, that’s all I wanted to do. To, to save you, protect you from all this, but you didn’t…deserve that. You didn’t. And, and it was all for nothing because you – you ended up getting dragged into all of it anyways. It’s all my fault, Billy – it’s all my fault that you almost died in the first place. Twice.”  
***

Billy shook his head but he couldn’t muster up a response, not yet. It wasn’t Steve’s fault, not any of it. But—he’d still done it, still hurt him. Still shoved him like he didn’t matter, even if he’d done it because Billy did matter, more than anything. Still caused a wound that he knew would take time to heal, time he couldn’t quite fathom. It was okay but it—also wasn’t, and it made it hard to wrap his head around, so used to black and white trauma and consequences for actions. 

“But you’re—here now. You’re here now, you’re not leaving again,” he said, Steve reinforcing it as much as he was convincing himself of it. “We go together, we love each other. It—everything bad already happened, it already happened. Now we just—I don’t know. We keep moving, don’t we?”  
***

Steve nodded, forehead to forehead as he tried to catch his breath, lungs too tight and throat too tight, and his head was starting to hurt. He reached back with his good hand, still clinging onto Billy with his right, to swipe at his cheek impatiently. He could taste salt. 

“I am – I’m here. ‘m not, not leaving. I love you. I want you safe, with me. I…Hop, when I was, talking to him the other day…he said…said that since you…” Steve made a face, nose wrinkling up in distaste as he tried to keep the memory of it at bay. He said it like it caused him great pain. “…’signed’ that, that thing, that he was able to get you added to our sad little club. So they’ll leave us alone now. So maybe…maybe nothing bad will happen again, but I…” Steve shook his head, his eyes flinching shut again, overbright with tears. 

“Something bad always happens here. Billy, I don’t...I don’t want to feel this way anymore. Always waiting for something bad. The next worse thing. Auntie Bea said that you needed, needed stability. Baby steps. Good things.”  
***

“We don’t—Steve, what else are we supposed to do?” Billy asked, shaking his head in kind. “I can’t—Steve, I can’t afford to do anything but what we’re doing now. I shouldn’t even be off work and—“

New York. Steve was going to New York any day now. It made his face fall and his head tip forward, looking down at Steve’s chest instead of anywhere else. He played with Steve’s hair and twisted his mouth up in the corner, almost missed that feeling when they’d first come back. Too tired to do anything, say anything, think about any of this. 

“I can’t see her anymore anyway. And you’re...you’ve got to go to New York. I can barely afford the apartment now,” he said, expression mirroring Steve’s, eyes squeezed shut to stop thinking of the inevitable. “What’s a—baby step now? What’s a good thing now?”  
***

Steve worried at his lip, eyes still crinkled with tears, but the worst of it seemed to have past – only making huffy little shuddering sighs and snuffling as he stayed leaned against Billy. Using each other for support, Billy legs wrapped around him, holding him together. Helping him calm down.

“You could. You could still talk to her.” Steve said softly. “If you just don’t bring up, you know.” He relaxed into the sensation of Billy playing with his hair, while his free hand slid down Billy’s side, settling against an oblique and thumbing over the soft skin there. 

He knew they’d been putting off this conversation, pretty much since they got back. But too much had happened, too much was there to break apart, and they just hadn’t been able to even face half of it. Steve wished they could just ignore it forever. Hide in his room. Never come out.

“I said I want you to be safe with me, babe.” Steve murmured, fondly, his dark, damp eyes flicking up to focus on Billy’s of lightest blue. They weren’t looking at him right now, though, angled somewhere down towards Steve’s chest. Not meeting his eyes, even as Steve tried to. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

He let out a long sigh through his nose, eyelids sliding closed, shoulder sagging as if with some unseen weight of the world. 

“But I can’t say I…I can’t say it doesn’t sound like an option. New York. It’s far away. It’s big, too big to be under anybody’s thumb…Hawkins is my home. I’ve never, never known anything else. I’ve always liked living here, I thought, thought I’d…raise my own kids here, you know? But this…there’s no coming back from this. I don’t think there was for Will, either, not really. Mrs. Byers is talking about moving them off to Maine. Something about some property of Bob’s. Things are falling apart. I want to be here, for the kids, make sure they’re safe, but…but the most important thing to me is keeping you safe, too. With me. Always with me. And that’s not here. I don’t think it’ll ever be here again. The apartment...I...Max said… you found something there?”  
***

Billy nodded,surprised at himself because he wasn’t disappointed by what Steve was saying, wasn’t alarmed at all. He felt relieved, honestly. He hadn’t liked Hawkins to begin with, only really felt like he belonged there in the sense of Steve being there, the kids. But Steve was concerned about him and keeping him safe, was saying it like it was the most important thing in the world to him. 

“I—when I kicked the TV in,” he said slowly, meeting Steve’s eyes again like that moment in the back of the arcade was playing over in his mind. He could still picture it. “I found a bug, I know it was a bug. Small set of wires, not even as big as a grape. Dropped it in front of her and she put it in a can of pop.”  
***

Steve made a squinty face at what Billy said, like he was chewing it over. “I fuckin’ knew it.” He said softly, eyes drifting to stare blindly at Billy’s shoulder, thinking. “I kept staring at that thing and I kept thinking that’s where it had to be, but – well, I sort of uh, broke my parents set last fall and…there wasn’t anything I could find, and they were pretty pissed. It’s not like we could afford another now.” 

Steve raised his eyes to meet Billy’s once more, so close that they could practically brush lashes in a butterfly kiss, but he didn’t. Sharing air, framed silhouettes against the glow from the bathroom. 

“You don’t, you don’t have to pay it on your own. We’re in this together, in the place together. But…but what do you think if maybe we, subleased it? Found someone to take it over? Get out of here? I already took the job from my dad, before…before everything. Thought you hated me, and…I just…I dunno. I took it. I thought it was for the best. But – can you come with me? Would you? I’ll be making three times what I made at the mall. We wouldn’t have to worry about money. Just save for California when you go to school next year? We don’t have to if you don’t want. We can stay. I just want us to go somewhere far away. Somewhere safe. With just us. But only if we’re together.”  
***

Bea would’ve called it a silver lining, what Steve was saying. Something Billy wanted to question instantly after everything. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Just leaving? Billy not being dirt poor for the first time in his life, figuring out a way to still talk to Bea from their—what, apartment in New York? Away from this place with some other world underneath it, away from spitting flowers and a prying government. Together, only if we’re together.

He crossed the last spare inches between them to climb into Steve’s lap completely, arms carefully not bothering his back as he wrapped them around his shoulders tightly. He pressed his face into one freckled shoulder and knew it would be damp in seconds, relief not a good enough word for how he felt. An out, he was being given an out, a break—a real one. 

“I wanna go, let’s go,” he said into Steve’s shoulder with a furious nod, sniffling and pressing closer, eyes squeezed shut for different reasons. “Let’s go together.”


End file.
